


Transitions

by Greenflares



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, M/M, Marauders' Era
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-09-29
Updated: 2015-09-08
Packaged: 2017-11-15 06:20:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 51,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/524071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Greenflares/pseuds/Greenflares
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Remus had never expected to make friends. He'd been so sure they'd flee the minute they realised he wasn't who he said he was. He'd been certain.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Remus's mother combed his hair out of his eyes and kissed him on the forehead. Remus kept his eyes open and stared at her throat, at the thin gold chain she wore around her neck. If he wanted to, if he really focused, he could see the jolt of her pulse from within her jugular vein. He could hear it if he tried.

When she pulled back she was smiling. She grazed a finger against his cheek before she straightened herself and went back to combing her own hair. Remus sat on the edge of the bathtub, letting the cold stone dig into his behind. He watched her and wondered why she did it, why she combed her hair and ironed her dresses and painted on lipstick, or even bothered getting out of bed, if all she did was hover from room to room through the house like a ghost confined to haunting one place for eternity.

"Have you done your times tables?" she asked him as she leaned towards the bathroom mirror and inspected her neat eyebrows. She glanced at him in the mirror.

"Yes," he said dutifully.

She smiled and it was that soft smile, the one that he often saw when it was just the two of them. "Seven times seven?" she prompted, and Remus sighed and rolled his eyes.

"Forty-nine," he answered her, seeing it in his head just how she'd told him to. Seven groups of seven, could be anything, could be apples or kittens or dogs. Seven groups of seven things. Easy.

"You're my little genius," she told him, bursting with pride.

He felt his own pride growing, expanding, taking up all the room in his chest, and he thought that maybe if he learned all of his times tables, maybe if he really made her proud, maybe then she'd let him go to school with the other children.

* * *

His mother had been a teacher once, and Remus knew without being told that 'once' meant 'before you were sick', because that was how the word was always used, and that was what it always meant.

_"Don't you remember? We went there once."_

_"That's your Grandmother Josie. You met her once."_

_"I taught at a school once."_

He tried to imagine his mother teaching a classroom full of children, a whole group of them, more than just Remus all alone. He sat in the dining room at the large wooden table and he wrote down his tables and he looked up at his mother, whose hair was the same soft brown as his own, and he tried to think of what it must be like to give up thirty normal children, just for a broken one.

* * *

His father came home late and ruffled his hair with calloused fingers, asked him how he'd been, asked him if he knew how to spell 'exhausted'.

Remus did, so he told him. When he finished he met his father's eyes with a smile. His father, a stern-faced man, retuned the gesture – if a little hesitantly.

Remus's mother was in the doorway watching them, smelling sweetly of her perfume. Remus turned and grinned at her, hoping she'd offer him praise.

"Don't know why we're letting him waste away in here," his father said, his voice gruff and dismayed, and Remus felt himself shrinking between them. His smile wilted and he turned his eyes down to his feet, to the worn grey fabric of his socks.

"Don't," his mother murmured the word like a warning, like a plea. She sounded teary. Remus found that despite his best efforts he couldn't look at her. Couldn't watch her cry. "Please," she whispered, her voice heavy and wet.

Remus's father shrugged out of his thick Muggle coat and threw it over a chair, sending a gust of stale air over Remus's face. The coat carried the stink of cigarettes and whiskey and it left his nose itching.

"He's so  _smart_ ," his father growled, sounding as though it pained him to say it, like it  _hurt_  him to carry the knowledge around, like it was a weight upon his shoulders, "he should be in school with the other children - in school, where he can  _learn!_ "

His mother left the doorway and came to stand behind Remus. She clamped her hands on his shoulders, her fingers pressing hard despite her shakiness, and she pulled him back until he was held against her legs. The stiff folds of her neatly ironed skirt scratched the bare skin at the back of his neck, and he squirmed. "He's too sick for that," she said, though Remus was rarely ill. "You know he is, the Healer-"

"The Healer's a superstitious fool," his father snapped, glowering at her, his bloodshot eyes shining in the limited light, "and you're only buying into it. Look at you, too terrified to let him out of your grasp." He tossed her a disgusted look before he tore his gazy away and let out a heavy hiss of a sigh. His mother held him tighter. "We've caused him too much harm already, and now this..." He trailed off, head shaking. "It's wrong."

Remus stood between them – a living shield, a breathing barricade – and wished things were different.

* * *

The first time he escaped during the full moon he was eight and he nearly killed his parents before they managed to lock themselves in the attic where he couldn't reach them.

He woke up the next morning in someone's backyard, his clothes gone and his skin painfully torn in places - a cut behind his ear; a bruise along his jaw; a scratch across his back. Blood was dried in thin cracks all over his body, the lines running through the dusty red blood as though etching out a roadmap. He couldn't tell if it was his own or someone else's. It was all he could smell.

The woman who owned the house found him and ushered him inside, wrapped him in a warm yellow blanket, asked him if he was okay, asked who'd hurt him.

He looked at her and thought with startling clarity:  _I could have killed you._

The police came and gave him something to wear - beige shorts that reached his knees and an enormous pale grey shirt that engulfed him like a sack - and then he was bustled into the back of their car.  "I sleepwalk," he told them, over and over again, "I do it all the time."

"If my boy was in the habit of sleepwalking to the next village each night, I reckon I'd keep his door locked," said one of the officers, a fat man with a thin moustache, and Remus didn't respond. 

When they reached his home his parents greeted them frantically in the driveway. His mother was a mess, all tears and trembling hands, and his father had the heavy smell of smoke about him and cigarette ash on his coat collar.

"Officers," his father said, stubbing a cigarette out and extending his hand to one and then the other, introducing himself and offering his thanks, his gratitude, his apologies. "He's an energetic one," he said bashfully, "he's always been a handful."

"I'll say," one of the officers agreed, guffawing. "This a regular thing, then? Him breaking out and going AWOL?" The officers glanced at Remus then, both of their eyes suddenly fixed upon him, and Remus swallowed.

Remus's mother took him painfully in her arms and rushed him back into the house, as though the police were the dangerous ones and not him.

 

* * *

He resigned himself to being homeschooled and spending a night a month in the cellar, an ankle always shackled and chained to the pipes, everything charmed so that nothing would break (except for his bones, because they always did, he never failed to wake up in broken agony). His father always locked the door after him and his mother always cried. When his body began to ripple, when his bones shifted beneath his skin like accelerated tectonic plates, he tried his hardest to stay quiet. He knew his parents were just upstairs listening.

He read more and he tried to tell himself that there wasn't much of a difference between experiencing something firsthand and reading about it. But then there were the books about werewolves and the matter-of-fact way they talked about the transformations, the way ' _agony_ ' looked so tame in print, so simple, just five little letters in dark ink. He looked at the word and he thought that maybe he hadn't learned anything from books – maybe none of it was true enough.

* * *

An owl arrived with a letter from Hogwarts, just like Remus had always hoped it would, but his parents – his  _mother_ , he thought a little spitefully – would never let him go. He'd long since come to terms with it, but it still left him breathless and hopeful when he held the letter in his hands and looked up at the two of them, asking them, pleading with them.

_What do I do?_

"Dumbledore mustn't know," his father said after he'd read it, and Remus's stomach tightened unpleasantly as it so often did when his affliction was brought up. "He mustn't know you're sick." He handed the letter to his wife and gave Remus a tense look of sympathy. "He wouldn't send it otherwise, I'm sure."

"People tend to say he's a bit daft," said his mother offhandedly as she quickly scanned through the letter, "they think he's a bit of a danger. You heard about the McBurns boy, didn't you, dear? Lost both ears to some kind of creature in the lake. Nasty business, that."

"I doubt Dumbledore pushed him in there," Remus grumbled, stabbing his breakfast and ignoring their probing eyes.

His mother sighed with heavy disapproval and said, just as he'd known she would, "Regardless, I just don't think it's a good idea, Remus."

"I'll write back," his father told them, already summoning a pen and parchment. He rolled his sleeves up to his elbows and pushed his breakfast out of the way, clearing a space to write.

"Dear Dumbledore, thanks but no thanks?" Remus guessed irritably.

"You're a smart one."

Remus nodded like a good boy, but bit down hard on his tongue until he was sure he was about to break through the flesh.

* * *

Dumbledore arrived unannounced the next day and Remus hid in the living room while his parents greeted the man at the door. Remus's heart was pounding, beating out an uneven rhythm against his ribcage, and he strained his ears to listen to their conversation. He couldn't quite hear what was being said, not until Dumbledore cleared his throat and said, loud enough that it made Remus wonder if he knew he was listening, "I was hoping I might please be able to speak with Remus?"

They sat in the living room, just the two of them. Dumbledore was in his father's leather recliner, a serene smile playing at his lips as he gazed around at the room, taking in the bookshelf and the record player and the chess board by the windowsill. It was odd to see someone to famous - so  _powerful_ \- sitting in his dad's chair and smiling fondly at the family portrait hung up above the mantle.

"I hear you're an exceptionally bright boy," Dumbledore said after a long while. He sounded sincere and comfortable and friendly, so strangely _normal_ , and it unnerved Remus. Dumbledore spoke to him as though they were equals, as though Remus wasn't eleven and a werewolf. He kept waiting for the punchline – kept waiting for the nasty surprise. "Your father seems to think you're a genius, in fact."

Remus flushed to the roots of his hair. "I'm not," he murmured, casting a side-ways glance to the hallway door, to where his father was probably pacing holes in the rug. He wondered just what his father had written in his letter.

"Would you like to come to Hogwarts, Remus?" Dumbledore asked, as simple as that, like there was nothing insane about the idea. Remus thought of what his mother had said - the rumour that Dumbledore, despite all his genius, was quite mad.

"I can't," Remus reminded him. "I'm sick." He felt his face burn hotter still, felt the burning prickle of shame crawling up the back of his neck and across his cheekbones. His hands twisted together anxiously, the skin damp with nerves.

Dumbledore fixed him with a gaze that made Remus feel solid, real, important,  _noticeable_ , and then said, "Sick? My dear boy, you're not sick. You're an unfortunate victim of circumstance."

"I'm a werewolf," he said, plain and simple, because he  _was_ , and Dumbledore needed to understand, needed to stop it before Remus got his hopes up. "I've escaped before," he told him hurriedly, and although his face burned hot, he felt icy inside. "I've hurt people – my dad – my mum. I woke up in someone's yard once. She – she thought I'd been attacked, she called the police for me – for  _me_ , like I was the victim, like she didn't realise how close she'd come to being mauled by a werewolf." He shook his head exasperatedly and took a deep breath as he tried to steady himself. He could feel himself trembling. "So – so obviously I can't go to Hogwarts because – I – I can't stay in a dormitory – I can't be with that many people."

Dumbledore looked sad and old as he said, "Don't think I'm overlooking these things, Remus. I would never endanger the lives of my students. But I would never exclude one because of something beyond their control, either."

"With all due respect, sir," Remus said in a quietly hysterical voice, "until the day comes that there's a cure for this disease, I don't think I'm all that safe to be around. Especially not at a school."

"You don't think it's unfair that you'll miss out on an education because of something that happened to you when you were a child? Something that was entirely out of your hands?" Dumbledore asked him.

His shoulders heavy and his pulse thumping in his ears, Remus said, "Not many things in life are fair, sir."

"A cynical answer, but a wise one," Dumbledore replied with a sad little sigh. He smoothed his robes over his knee with his palm as he said, "At any rate, I can assure you that you'll pose no danger at Hogwarts, Remus. I can promise you an education, and I can promise that the other children will remain safe."

"You can't promise that," Remus told him, because he  _couldn't_  – there was  _no way_  he could know that. He'd read enough about Dumbledore to know that the man was no Seer.

"You are an intelligent boy," Dumbledore began confidently, "and if I do say so, I possess some intelligence myself. I see no reason why the two of us cannot think of a way to keep everyone happy and safe." His eyes twinkled as he added, " _And_ educated."

Remus licked his lips and felt his chest lighten. He scrambled for words. "My mother's a good teacher. I wouldn't be missing out on an education," he said, but it sounded like an excuse.

"That she is, but the teachers at Hogwarts are, forgive me, far more experienced in their areas of expertise. You'll receive a better education at Hogwarts than you would anywhere else. Remus, you seem as though you're the kind of man who places a high value on a good education." He eyed the books that were stacked beside Remus's spot on the sofa.

Remus thought of Hogwarts and tried to imagine himself there – a student, a boy, just like all the rest. He caught himself before he could smile.

"And if I hurt someone?" he breathed. He heard the defeat in his voice, but it sounded like hope. "If I escape, despite your best efforts? What then?"

"Then we would be forced to discipline you like we would any other student who caused harm towards another."

He worried he might be doing the wrong thing, that he might regret it once Dumbledore left, might change his mind once his mother looked at him with her sad eyes, but he swallowed his concerns and nodded. He'd worry about it later.

"Yes, okay, yes. I'll – I'll do it, I'll come."

* * *

His mother folded one of his sweaters until it was as small as it would go and then she placed it neatly into his second-hand school trunk. She reached for another garment from his wardrobe and folded it also. She'd been quiet for a long time.

"Now," she said, in the way she often began a lesson, "what are you  _not_  going to do?"

Remus took a deep, tiresome breath. "I'm not going to tell anyone I'm a werewolf, obviously."

"Don't use that tone," she scolded him, "I'm not trying to be a pain, Remus, I just want you-"

"I know, I know," he sighed, because he _did_ know, even if she thought he didn't. She was only trying to help him. She only wanted to keep him safe and happy. He knew that. Unfortunately that didn't make it any easier to accept.

They kept packing. She packed his clothes – it was odd to see summer things and winter things all bundled together, and then it struck him that he'd be gone for a long time, for a full school year, away from his parents and the safe familiarity of home – and he packed his belongings. His books, his quills, and the long rolls of parchment he'd bought specially for the year all went in the trunk. He worried there wouldn't be enough room for his cauldron. Maybe he'd just carry it.

"Remus," his mother said, and her voice carried warnings in it, ones that made his shoulders tense and his mouth go dry, "this might be hard to hear, but I need to tell you." She met his eyes. He nodded. It wasn't as though he could turn and run or cover his ears. "There's a chance... a great possibility... that if someone finds out about your illness..." She paused. She held the sweater she'd been folding and she stared at it as her thumb rubbed gently against the pale grey fabric. It was too small for him; he'd have to remember to take it out later.

"Mum?" he said softly, jolting her out of her trance.

"Sorry," she murmured, and she placed the sweater into the trunk with a jerky shake of her head. She then picked up where she'd left off. "I just don't want you being hurt, Remus. If someone finds out, they're not likely to take it well. Children can be so cruel."

Remus, who was only eleven, had already known that was likely to happen. He was prepared for the worst. He'd read the Muggle horror novels and he'd studied the texts about werewolves that his father brought home for him. He hadn't for an instant thought anyone would accept such a thing.

"I don't want you to avoid people," his mother continued in a strangled voice, "but if not having any friends means you'll be safe..." She trailed off, unable to say it.

"I understand, mum," he told her.

She smiled at him. "My bright boy," she said tearfully.

Remus continued packing, feeling sicker than he had in years.

* * *

"Seems smaller," his father said when they stood on Platform 9¾ on the 1st of September. A refreshing dampness clung to the air and each breath Remus took left his lungs wanting more.

His mother gripped tightly to her husband's arm, her face the colour of chalk and her eyes bulging with fear. She rarely left the house and doing so now caused her distress. His father had once confided in Remus that his mother was scared of being outdoors because of what had happened to him as a boy. She worried constantly about the dangers of being outside. Remus had felt guilty about it ever since.

"Excited, champ?" his father asked him, nudging Remus's shoulder and smiling at him.

He shrugged. Truth be told, he was having doubts. Life swarmed around them, parents and children and owls and cats and even a few toads. Remus was sure he was the only werewolf present, because who in the name of Merlin would have the spectacular lack of sense to bring a werewolf to a children's school? Dumbledore, apparently.

"Don't worry," his dad said, sensing his nerves, "you'll be fine."

Remus steeled himself.  _He'd be fine._

"We'll miss you terribly," his mother said sadly. She smiled tearfully at him, her eyes like watery jellies. Her usually perfectly combed hair was a wiry mess around her face, her locks hanging lank and sad like old curtains around a dusty, cobwebbed window. "Write us, won't you?" she whimpered. She seemed close to manic tears.

He nodded vehemently at her, trying to soothe her somewhat. He could feel a new energy building inside him – a bristling sense of excitement, of anticipation. Somewhere a whistle blew and a man called that it was time to board the train.

He hugged them quickly, let his mother kiss him until the embarrassment burned hot against his face, and then clambered aboard with his trunk. He found an empty carriage – a rarity, it seemed, since every other carriage seemed to be bursting with loud, eager people – and he sat down. He tried to spot his parents on the platform but couldn't. They were lost in the crowd.

It wasn't until the train was out of the station and the countryside was whirling past him that he realised he'd left, he was gone, his parents were back there and he was moving onward, and he wouldn't see them for weeks.

He was quite sure he'd end up regretting saying yes to Dumbledore.

* * *

The Sorting Hat said nothing to him. He learned later that it had whispered to some people – told them that they'd be foolish not to consider something different, and were they _very certain_ that Gryffindor was what they wanted? Sirius boasted that the Hat had recognised him ( _"Ah! Another Black! But wait... this one's different..."_ ) and James laughed and said it must have been Sirius's own vanity whispering back to him – but the Hat didn't utter a word to him. It fell heavy upon his head, bringing with it the thick aroma of dust and old fabric, and then announced to the hall after a brief contemplation, " _GRYFFINDOR!_ "

Remus felt his heart stutter as applause thundered through the improbably large room. He was so astonished he nearly tripped on his way to the Gryffindor table, which earned him a few laughs and nervous titters from the assembled students.

Sirius, who had been one of the first to be Sorted and whose name Remus had remembered due to its connection to the stars (he'd read a book on Astrology only the summer before, just as something to do), slid along the bench to allow room for Remus to sit beside him. Sirius had short black hair which made his skin look violently pale in comparison. His eyes were a light mix of greens and blues that resulted in a marbled grey, and when he smiled he gave off a confidence that Remus could never have managed even in his wildest dreams.

Remus had once heard his mother describe someone as having "aristocratic features". Remus thought he understood what that meant, now.

"Sirius Black," he said, offering him a hand to shake. Remus took it gently, not quite sure what the proper procedure was for shaking hands, since he'd never done it before. "I think the Hat is broken," Sirius told him vivaciously when they dropped hands.

"Uh," Remus began, looking aimlessly about for someone to help him assure Sirius that it wasn't, "why?"

"There's never been a Black who wasn't in Slytherin," he replied promptly, his eyes gliding over to the Slytherin table as he spoke. "For example, right now I can count three Blacks on that table. Cousins of mine. I assume they're furious that I haven't joined them there. They're probably writing home as we speak, the filthy tattle-tales." He squinted distrustfully at the table.

"Maybe you're just more Gryffindor-y than the rest of your family," Remus suggested, feeling horribly inadequate. He wished he had something better to say. He'd only known Sirius for a minute and he was already embarrassing himself.

"Maybe I am," Sirius said, though he didn't sound convinced. "Or maybe the Hat's broken. It's very old, you know. Old things break easily. I have an Aunt who's old. Old and insane. Insanity and old age seem to go hand in hand, I've found." He was now staring at the Hat with narrowed eyes. "That's it. I've decided. The Hat is insane."

Remus found himself smiling faintly at the boy, caught in amused bewilderment. Did all people behave like Sirius did? Had Remus, due to his isolation, missed some vital stage in his development that was triggered by being around other children? A learned habit, perhaps? Was he weird for being so quiet? "Reserved," his mother had said once, "you're so reserved, Remus."

Sirius looked back at him, then suddenly gasped as though just remembering something.

"Buggery," he hissed, "I'm being rude. Sorry. What's your name?"

Remus blinked furiously, trying to remember. "Um – Remus Lupin?" he replied, sounding horribly uncertain of himself.

"You sure of that, Remus Lupin?" Sirius asked, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth and revealing bright white teeth that put Remus's modest smile to shame.

"Yes!" Remus croaked, nerves strangling him and squeezing all intelligence from his brain. He felt so incredibly out of his depth.

"Potter, James" was called to the Hat next, and Sirius made an enthusiastic whoop and sat up straighter, stretching to see over the heads in his way.

"I sat with him on the train," he told Remus casually, not taking his eyes from the boy. "He's a good sort. I hope he's put with us."

_Us._

Remus had next to no time to contemplate what Sirius had just said – Sirius had just grouped them together, _included_   _him_ , included  _Remus_  – because at that moment the Hat shouted, " _GRYFFINDOR!_ "

Remus was quite sure Sirius's applause was the loudest in the hall.

James jogged energetically over to the table, grinning from ear to ear, and sat down opposite Sirius and Remus at the table. His glasses hung crookedly on his nose and his dark hair was a mess in all directions. He looked as frighteningly excitable as Sirius was.

"I can't believe this is happening!" Sirius cried gleefully, his voice an octave higher than before.

"I know!" James shrilled, bouncing in his seat and accidentally jostling the older student who was sitting beside him. "Merlin, we're in  _Gryffindor!_ " Then, with a charming smile that made Remus like the boy immediately simply because of how  _kind_  he looked, James said, "I knew you were a Gryffindor from the moment I saw you, Sirius. I just knew it."

Sirius's returning grin was so wide it looked painful.

James noticed Remus then, and promptly stuck a hand out over the table for Remus to shake.

"James Potter," he said, his face still flushed with excitement. "Pleased to meet you!"

"Remus Lupin," Remus replied, smiling at him, aiming for charming but probably looking very plain. "I'm glad I'm with you both," he said once his hand was free again. "I was worried I'd end up with someone horrible as a housemate." His eyes involuntarily crossed to the Slytherin table.

Sirius laughed and clapped him thoroughly on the back, bumping him a little forcefully into the table. "I know that feeling!" he said with a loud laugh. "I was sure I was going to be stuck with that greasy git from the train."

James shuddered theatrically, and Remus, who still felt slightly out of place with the two of them despite how friendly they seemed, didn't ask who they meant. He didn't want to push his luck with them.

The last person was Sorted into Hufflepuff and then the Dumbledore stood, raised a glass, and gave a short speech. He looked at home at the front of the hall – far more so than he had in Remus's tiny house. He welcomed them, told them to eat as much as they could, and then sat again. Immediately the tables sprung full with food.

Remus helped himself to a steak – it was as rare as he dared eat in public, and he wondered if perhaps the table had known what he'd wanted, or if there was just a wide variety of food available to suit everyone's tastes – and then settled back to eat, his entire body alive with the knowledge that he was at  _Hogwarts_  and he was in  _Gryffindor_.

"I wonder when I'll receive the first Howler," Sirius pondered conversationally, pulling a cream cake towards him and then licking the sugar from his fingers. In a completely unaffected tone he continued, "I imagine my parents will disown me for this."

"Really?" James asked with his eyebrows raised. He was cutting into what appeared to be a kind of green meat, and with some apparent difficulty, too. "Just for being Sorted into Gryffindor?" At Sirius's nod he let out a long, low whistle and breathed, "Whoa. Uptight."

"I come from a family of escaped mental patients with incestuous tendencies," Sirius told them brightly, and he took a bite of the cream filled cake he'd chosen for his dinner. Sugar dusted his nose, and Remus couldn't help laughing when he effortlessly licked it off.

Remus had been at Hogwarts for not even a day – not even an hour – and he was already having more fun than he'd ever expected to have. Not only that, but he wasn't alone! He wasn't sitting by himself reading, like he'd always pictured himself when he tried to imagine his life at Hogwarts. He was with other children, and they were including him, and he wasn't  _alone_.

"I'll bet mum has the house-elf pre-heating the oven right now, getting ready to cook me alive," Sirius sighed after he'd finished half the cake, and James choked on his food. "I'm not joking! They'll eat me! They'll gather everyone around the table and say,  _"To purity! To Slytherin!"_  and then dad'll get out the carving knife and he'll cut off my arse cheek and serve it to my mum."

Remus burst into laughter and sprayed the table with his mouthful of juice.

"Don't laugh! I've got a day to live, at the most! You should be treasuring this precious time with me!" Sirius insisted as he twisted to face Remus, who was covering his mouth with his hands as he laughed.

"You're a complete twat, Sirius Black," James said from across the table, eyes bright and happy behind his round glasses. "You're killing Remus; can't you see the boy can't breathe?"

" _Remus?_  You're worrying about  _Remus?_  I'm the one who's going to be feasted upon! Worry about  _me!_  I thought this was supposed to be the honourable house! I demand a recount." He looked wildly about for some kind of official.

Remus looked at the two of them, the two charming boys who had for some reason decided to talk to him, who had seen something likeable in him, and he thanked Merlin for whatever he'd done to deserve them.

 


	2. Chapter 2

There were only four of them in their dormitory - Remus, Sirius, James, and a boy named Peter Pettigrew. From their first encounter (during which Peter fell down a flight of stairs and ended up with his nose caught in a suit of armour) Remus felt immensely bad for the boy. Their experiences with him were, for the most part, terrible. Peter was small, round, and weak. His voice was an octave above silence and his beady eyes were constantly jumping from one thing to the next, nervously scouting the area like a bird or rodent. Being with Peter was no different to being without him.

But because there were only four of them, there was no one else for Peter to attach himself to. And that, Remus supposed, was how Peter joined their group.

It was unfortunate, however, that Peter talked in his sleep, because Sirius desperately wanted to dip his hand in a glass of water.

"I heard it makes you wet yourself," he whispered to Remus across the dormitory from his bed. It was dark, but Sirius's face was still visible. It was a pale, shimmering blur in the dark, one that was stretched in a grin. Remus had quickly learned that Sirius was always grinning.

"Don't," Remus said, not unkindly. He felt the need to defend the sleeping boy because, loathe as he was to admit it, Peter was the least of them. He was the shortest, the quietest, and possibly even the youngest. Remus pitied him.

From the bed on Remus's right Peter whimpered something, and Sirius snickered.

"I take back what I said," James grumbled from Sirius's other side, his voice rusty with sleep. "The Hat  _was_ mistaken, and you  _were_ meant for Slytherin. You're an evil git."

Sirius laughed, and his laughter sounded canine, almost. Like a rough bark. Remus found some kind of poetry in it – Sirius, the dog star. Sirius, with the barking laugh. There was balance there.

"It's not evil," Sirius said defensively, throwing something at James, "it's just a bit of fun."

"When the dormitory reeks of urine you won't think it's so fun," James replied, and Sirius made a thoughtful sound.

"True," he eventually acquiesced, voice quiet.

Peter grumbled sleepily, "No... not that one... the other one... yes..."

"This is taking a lot of self-restraint, I hope you know," Sirius whispered after a moment, and Remus pressed his smile into his pillow.

 

* * *

Remus had no memory of his first transformation. He'd been bitten when he was just a child, younger than young, four years old, or so his mother said. It seemed to him that his entire life had been spent as a werewolf, that there had never been a time when he slept soundly through the full moon.

His first full moon at Hogwarts crept up on him slowly. He knew it was coming – by Merlin he knew it was coming, how could he ever forget, what with the way it was ingrained in him and the way his mother sent him a panicked owl almost every day – but he'd put off thinking about it, deciding that he'd worry about it when it came. He began to feel the tell-tale aches a week before the date, and that was nothing much. An aching back, a twinge in his shoulders, in his knees, a crackling burn through his bones; he was used to just as much. He slept restlessly, tossing so violently that he frequently woke himself or others up. Twice he jolted awake to Sirius standing by his bed, shaking him, asking him if he was alright because he was thrashing about like a mad man.

When the time came an owl arrived carrying a simple scrap of parchment that read:

_Remus,_

_Madam Pomfrey will see you after your last class this evening. Meet her in the hospital wing. Perhaps a suitable excuse for your friends would aid you in keeping your condition a secret._

_\- Professor Dumbledore_

"Mum's sick," he said at breakfast that morning, "and I have to go home for the night. Maybe two nights, if things are bad." He watched the post arrive, the flood of owls swooping and filling the ceiling of the hall, obscuring the bright morning sky. "I leave this afternoon."

"Sick?" James echoed, a crease between his brows. "How sick? Deathly sick?"

"No," said Remus uncertainly, "she's – she's just sick?"

"Good," Sirius said around a mouthful of bacon.

"Good?" Peter repeated in confusion.

"Yeah. Good. It's – it's a good thing she's just sick. That she's not dying," Sirius explained. He wiped his mouth on the back of his hand and smirked at Remus. "Tell her I say hi. No, hang on, tell her I send  _my_   _love_."

"I'll tell her nothing of the sort," Remus replied smartly, noting the vulgar tone, and Sirius tipped his head back and laughed.

He asked James to take notes for him – he wouldn't, Remus knew he wouldn't, James never did, didn't even need them, was smart without trying – and then after his last class he said goodbye to his friends and crept to the hospital wing, trying to be seen by as fewer people as possible.

Madam Pomfrey looked at him like he was a drowned kitten, a soft little dear thing that was lost and needed to be looked after. She smiled at him, introduced herself, and then told him the plan. They'd planted a tree on the grounds – Whomping Willow, he made a note to research it later – and beneath it was a passageway to a house that would be his holding cell until the danger had passed.

"A bit cruel, if you ask me," she said, "but Professor Dumbledore was insistent."

Remus had spent a fair amount of time chained up in his cellar at home, and therefore considered being allowed an entire house to himself during his transformation a great treat in comparison, but had enough tact not to tell her as much.

They walked across the lawn once it was growing dark and they were certain they wouldn't be seen by anyone looking out of a window. Madam Pomfrey chattered to him about how she'd been a trainee at the school when his parents were there – ( _"I remember your father broke his leg in three places after he was dared to slide down the banister of a staircase. It was moving, at the time. Silly boy. How is he these days? Does he still wear his ties in that ridiculous fashion?"_ ) – and how it was her nephew's eighth birthday in a week's time and she was lost for what to get him.

"Here we are," she said once they'd reached the tree, which was as whomping and as willowy as the name suggested.

It swung its branches viciously and with a kind of blind, aimless anger that made Remus hesitant to go anywhere near it, let alone  _right up to it_.

"They've been accelerating its growth," she explained conversationally as it slammed a thick branch into the ground repeatedly, breaking loose great clots of dirt, "and judging by its mood-swings and volatile temperament, I'd say it's reached puberty." She nodded decisively.

"And so I – I what – I just... walk right up to it? Politely ask it to step aside?" Remus croaked around a nervous lump in his throat.

Madam Pomfrey glanced sharply at him – his tone was clearly unwanted – and said, "You need only cast a spell." She removed her wand from her pocket and flicked it at the tree, saying, " _Immobulus!"_ Immediately the branches froze.

"Come on."

They approached the trunk, which was as thick as Remus was tall. An earthy hole big enough for a grown man to fit through was at the base, hidden between the roots.

"Through there's a tunnel, and it will lead you to the Shrieking Shack," she told him. "Lock the door after you once you're in there. It wouldn't do for you to get out again."

Remus blinked at her. He had expected her to walk him to the shack.

"Oh, don't be like that," she said in a softer voice than she had used previously, "you'll be fine. It's not a long way."

"Okay," he agreed, nerves burning through his bloodstream like a current through a livewire. "Thanks, Madam Pomfrey," he added.

She smiled at him, and there was pity in her eyes. "I hope it passes quickly."

He didn't reply to her, instead he crawled through the hole under the roots and entered the tunnel, coughing dirt from his lungs as he did.

 

* * *

When his body began to change, when his limbs buckled and snapped into new shapes, he didn't try to stay quiet.

 

* * *

He came back ragged and aching and covered in bruises and a few weak cuts and scrapes. Madam Pomfrey cast away the visible injuries, but left the ones that were easily hidden under clothes.

"I'm sorry," she said quietly, using a voice more suited to delivering bad news in a waiting room, "the more often you're given a Healing spell, the less potent they become. It's for the best - just in case."

He sat in the hospital wing on one of the beds and he kicked his feet like pendulums, back and forth, back and forth. His knees ached badly, but moving them helped distract him from the pain. Madam Pomfrey hovered in front of him, testing his eyesight and his hearing and then demanding he walk up and down the wing in a straight line.

"You'll live," she said gruffly once he'd proven himself able-bodied, and then sent him off with a sad smile.

"See you next month," he called back. It wasn't until the words were past his lips that he realised how upset they made him.

 

* * *

They sat in the common room in the chairs by the fire, Peter asleep and drooling on himself, Sirius flipping aimlessly through a textbook, James reading through his hastily-scrawled Potions essay, and Remus trying to catch up on the work he'd missed in his absence.

"So, how's your mum?" Sirius asked, fatigue leeching the usual energy from his voice. It was a Thursday and they were all verging on exhaustion.

"Huh?" Remus asked, looking up from his work and rubbing his eyes.

"Your mum." When Remus only squinted in confusion Sirius groaned and reminded him dryly, "She was sick. You had time off to go and visit her."

"Oh!" gasped Remus, just a little too late, just a little too obliviously. "Yes! Mum! Oh, she's great. She's – uh – she's getting along much better. Miraculous recovery. Really good. Strong as an ox, even."

Sirius only looked at him, watched him over his book, let him gnaw at the inside of his cheek until the skin came away.

"That's good, then," James interjected sleepily.

Remus nodded, mostly to himself, and then went back to his work.

 

* * *

"Men," said James one day when they were seated at the Gryffindor table for breakfast, "I'm going to marry that woman."

"Not Evans again," groaned Sirius, who was often witness to James's long sonnets about Lily Evans's radiant beauty.

"Always Evans, Sirius," James whispered in reply, his eyes glued to the girl. Remus turned in his seat to watch her enter the hall alongside her friends. "It's love."

"It's pathetic, that's what it is, mate," Sirius sighed, and he helped himself to a piece of buttered toast from James's plate. James was too enraptured to notice or care.

Peter, who was stirring his porridge with a fork, said, "Her hair's nice and red."

"Yes, Peter," James agreed in a drifting voice, his eyes still on Lily who was now glaring at him from the opposite end of the table and shaking her head, "nice and red."

Sirius rolled his eyes and let them fall on Remus with a smirk. Remus smiled warmly and busied himself with eating his scrambled eggs.

 

* * *

"Help me insert my fangs," Sirius pleaded, chasing after Remus with a set of plastic novelty fangs in his hand. They were covered in saliva from several failed attempts at attaching them properly. "I'm useless with sticking charms."

Remus rolled his eyes, sighed fondly, and instructed Sirius to stand still and open his mouth. Sirius did exactly as he was told, and Remus gently helped put the fangs into his mouth before whispering the incantation to keep them in place.

"You look ridiculous," he said once they were firmly attached to his friend's teeth and weren't likely to fall out at inopportune times as they had been all night.

"And you," Sirius huffed, his speech slightly illegible now that there were fake fangs in his mouth, "look like a party pooper."

It was Halloween and Remus hadn't dressed for the occasion, unlike the majority of the school. Dumbledore, in all his questionable wisdom, had decided that a Halloween ball was a fantastic idea and that costumes were to be encouraged.

Sirius had come as a vampire, much to Remus's dismay. He looked more like a Muggle's interpretation than he did the real thing. He'd slicked his black hair down with gel, combed it back over his scalp so it was sleek and smooth, and had dribbled fake blood down his chin so it looked as though he'd just been biting innocents. His fangs, which were far too big, kept him from closing his mouth properly. He wrapped up the costume with a dark cloak with a rather severe collar that made his cheekbones look frighteningly sharp.

"I'd rather be a party pooper than a, a - whatever Peter's supposed to be," Remus drawled, looking sideways at Peter who was trailing hopelessly after James (who was dressed as an Egyptian mummy, wrapped over and over again in white bandages pilfered from the hospital wing), who was trailing hopelessly after Lily (who was dressed as a troll, complete with an authentic club in her hand).

"Werewolf," Sirius told him, and Remus flinched so violently he bit his tongue, drawing sour blood that pooled in his mouth and made him grimace. "That fluffy thing on his head? It might only  _appear_  to be a bath mat, but it's actually werewolf fur. He's a dangerous man-eating beast, that one."

"Oh," Remus managed shakily. Hearing the word from Sirius... it had startled him.

_I'm a werewolf,_  he thought,  _I'm a werewolf, Sirius, I'm a real one. No bath mat necessary._

"I think he nicked it from the dormitory bathroom, but it could just be something he found dead in the forest and decided to strap to his – hey, are you alright?"

"Yes!" croaked Remus very unconvincingly. He nodded a little too eagerly and his vision blurred in response. "I'm just fine! Perfect! Peachy! Uh, peachy? Is that the right word? Peachy?"

Sirius eyed him suspiciously, his ridiculous fangs hanging down past his lips. "I'm going to get you a glass of water," he said slowly, carefully, as though Remus was a wild animal than might bolt at a loud or sudden noise. "I'll be right back. Don't... don't disappear on me, okay?"

Remus nodded, waited for Sirius to leave, and then ran back to the dormitory.

There was only so much he could take before he started having panic attacks.

 

* * *

He woke up in the Shrieking Shack covered in his own blood and struggling to breathe through what he suspected might be a punctured lung.  _Just my luck_ , he thought bitterly, and proceeded to cough up a bit of blood.

Madam Pomfrey healed him with the same sad look in her eyes that she adopted whenever he came to her. When she was done and the majority of his bruises were gone he thanked her and staggered back to Gryffindor tower, utterly exhausted despite how early in the morning it was. He'd been gone two days, he calculated.

When he entered the dormitory he fell face-first on to his bed before falling asleep, still dressed in his robes and wearing his shoes.

He woke up several hours later to Sirius shaking him, asking him if he wanted anything for breakfast, and was he okay? He looked sick. Should he go and get McGonagall?

"M'fine," slurred Remus, eyes shut, body aching. It still hurt to breathe. His ribs ached and his shoulders burned hot beneath his flesh and muscle. "Tired, s'all."

"Okay," Sirius said, sounding less than pleased about the situation. "If you say so."

Remus slept for a full day and when he woke he still ached through his entire body.

 

* * *

"I once read that if you bruise too easily it might be a symptom of a disease, like that thing Muggles get – cancer, or something," James said all-too-casually one morning as the four of them made their way to Potions class.

Remus acted as though he hadn't heard a word James had just said, and inwardly made a mental note to ask Madam Pomfrey about glamours the next time he saw her. He'd have to start hiding the dark bruises over his body, since his friends were no longer oblivious to them.

"Remus, are you being bullied?" Peter asked directly, and Sirius let out an appalled gasp and shoved him.

"Subtlety!" hissed Sirius, and Peter grunted apologetically.

"I'm  _fine_ ," Remus said angrily, because he was, wasn't he? It was nothing he couldn't handle – it was nothing he hadn't done a hundred times before.

 

* * *

He lay awake in bed, his friends' even breathing assuring him that they were asleep, well past waking up and asking him about his bruises or his absences or the alarmingly dark circles around his eyes left from nights of restless sleep. He raised an arm above his body, freeing it from the warmth of the blankets, and let his fingers flex in chilly midair.

There were bones in him, hundreds of them. He'd read that the adult body contained 206 bones. He wasn't an adult yet – nowhere close – but one day he would be. 206, all of them holding him together, keeping him upright, keeping him alive.

He flexed his fingers, turned his hand this way and that, and wondered how his bones allowed him to mutate so horrifically once a month. How could something so solid and powerful, something so strong, let him change so drastically?

He fell asleep wondering how many bones he had in his body when he was a werewolf, making a note to research it later, and when he dreamed that night he dreamed of his screams as his body shifted against his will, as his bones stretched and snapped and aided in his own destruction.

 

* * *

He was in the library finishing his Potions essay when Lily Evans entered, arms laden with books and scrolls of parchment, followed closely by Severus Snape. Remus had long ago learned that Severus wasn't the kindest person in the school, and that there was nothing but hostility between Severus and Remus's friends. Remus himself had nothing against him – his mother had always said to give everyone a chance, hadn't she, not that she'd thought he'd ever have to put that action into practice.

Lily hissed at Severus over her shoulder, clearly perturbed that he had followed her, and Severus hissed something in return. She looked ready to yell at him when she spotted Remus. Immediately she made a beeline for him, with Severus hot on her tail.

"Remus!" she gasped, her voice lighting with something akin to relief. He didn't think they'd ever spoken to each other before - he hadn't realised she even knew his name.

"Lily?" he returned, sitting a little straighter and pulling his Potions essay closer to him – she was better than him at Potions and he didn't want her laughing at something stupid he'd written.

"Is it alright if I sit with you?" she asked, already putting her things down on the table. She saw Remus glance at Severus, who was looming over them both like a storm cloud, and hastily added, "Severus was just leaving. Sev?"

Severus – or Sev, Remus noted, looking between them both a little curiously – scowled and folded his arms over his chest. His robes fit him wrong; his sleeves ended halfway down his forearms, leaving his bony wrists exposed.

Satisfied, Lily sat down, let out a sigh, and began to get to work.

Severus showed no signs of leaving. "Lupin, isn't it?" he asked, his drawling voice twisted and bitter.

Remus raised his eyes to Severus and felt his face heat up. "Uh, yes. You're Severus Snape, right?" He felt it only polite to ask him in return.

"Don't play the fool, I know you know who I am," Severus snapped, and Remus balked guiltily. "Lily," Severus continued, looking at her again, sounding almost desperate, "let's study by the lake."

"It's November, Severus! It's freezing outside!" she exclaimed, and her bright green eyes were blazing. Remus had to commend Severus for bravery in the face of danger.

Aware that the librarian was watching them cautiously for any signs of disruption, Severus turned abruptly and left. His too-small robes flapped after him and Remus, whose own robes were quite shabby, wondered if he'd purchased his second-hand, too.

"I'm sorry about all of that," Lily grumbled once they were alone, sounding quite embarrassed. She'd abandoned the essay she had in front of her and had her face hidden in her hands. "He's quite insistent."

"You're friends with him, though?" Remus asked, not unkindly. He didn't want to upset her any further.

"We know each other from outside of school," she answered, and Remus was surprised at that, because wasn't Lily Muggle-born? Before he could ask her anything about it, she continued, "Hey, wait a minute, are you okay? You were absent recently. I thought maybe you were sick."

He shook his head slowly, giving himself time to remember what his excuse had been. "My mum," he said, because he'd reused that excuse with his friends, he'd claimed that her illness had returned, "she's been sick, I was needed at home."

Her eyes softened, and Remus thought he could understand why James liked her so much.

 

* * *

Quidditch began, and James fidgeted through the entire match. Remus thought it was far too cold to be outside and was a shivering mess beneath his Gryffindor scarf and hat. He'd never been to a Quidditch match before – didn't really find it all that exciting – but his friends made it bearable.

"I could've made that," James moaned several times through the game, and Sirius had to pat him sympathetically on the shoulder before he'd stop grieving for the missed goal.

"Try out next year," Sirius suggested offhandedly. "That way you won't get to complain that the team sucks."

"I'd have tried out  _this_  year!" James replied sulkily. "And I'd have made it, too! If I hadn't had that  _damn_ detention with Filch..."

Remus smiled and accepted a sandwich from Peter when he was offered one. The rest of the match seemed to fly by quickly.

 

* * *

Professor McGonagall came around the common room with a list, writing down the names of the students who were staying for the holidays. Christmas was coming, and Remus was eager to spend it with his parents.

"Are any of you staying?" Sirius asked apprehensively, looking nervous for once. From what he'd told them he didn't have a very pleasant relationship with his family, especially not now that he'd been sorted into Gryffindor.

Remus shook his head, Peter ate a chocolate frog, and James said sympathetically, "Mum'd flay me alive if I did."

"Damn," Sirius murmured, "I'd have stayed if any of you were."

 

* * *

"It's such a shame," his mother whispered, pushing his hair back and kissing him on the forehead like she'd always done. She sounded close to tears. Remus didn't look at her when she pulled away.

His father rocked back on his heels, his thumbs hooked through the belt loops of his trousers. "He'll be fine," he told his wife nonchalantly, "he's done this before."

Remus wondered where Madam Pomfrey was. Did she stay at Hogwarts during the Christmas break? He supposed she would, since there was the chance of children being injured during the break. So she'd have to stay. But what about her own family? Did she have any children of her own? She'd never mentioned any, but Remus had never asked -

"We'll be right upstairs," his mother told him through tears, as though she thought that knowing they were within close proximity while he was a rabid beast would help soothe his nerves. For a teacher, she lacked a lot of common sense.

Their footsteps clapped loudly against the cellar stairs as they climbed back into the house. His father locked the door after him, and then Remus was alone in the dark, a cool steel manacle around his ankle and a short length of chain keeping him fixed to a pipe.

He adjusted himself so he was able to lie on the ground and he spread himself out so that when the transformation began, when his body shifted, he wouldn't tangle himself in the chain. It was entirely lightless in the cellar and there was no difference between lying with his eyes open or closed. It was black either way.

His thoughts turned to his friends. They'd sent him letters which had arrived early on Christmas morning. Sirius's had been as long as any essay he'd ever done for school, probably even longer, and Remus wondered if maybe that was how he was spending his time – locked in his room writing to his friends, wishing he was back at school.

Peter sent him a mince pie, James sent him a large supply of Honeydukes chocolate, and Sirius sent him a book on Greek mythology.

_You mentioned you wanted to know more about that kind of stuff, and then I saw this book, and I thought of you,_ Sirius had said in his letter, and Remus had sat and wondered what it was he'd done that had made him so deserving of such wonderful friends.

His body began to twist then, and all thoughts of Sirius and books were wiped cleanly from his mind and replaced with pain.

 

* * *

His mother's healing spells had always seemed so powerful when he was a child, but now he could still feel the sting in the healed cut on his arm. Madam Pomfrey's -

But no, Madam Pomfrey wasn't there, and what good would it do whining about it? He shook his head and tried to clear his thoughts. He looked at his hands, at the scrapes over his knuckles and the blood still caught in the cuticles of his nails. His hands stayed steady.

They were sitting in the dining room, gathered for dinner, and Remus still hurt all over. He looked like a corpse, if his mother's worried glances were any indication, and no matter how many times he washed his mouth out his food still tasted like blood and dirt. He wanted to sleep, wanted to hide away from his parents and their probing questions about his classes, his schoolwork, his friends.

"Have you told them?" his mother asked, looking older and more worried than she'd ever seemed. There were thin lines around her eyes that Remus had never noticed before, and the creases in her forehead had grown deeper. Her hair was lighter in the places where grey was creeping through. She was getting old.

"No," he said. He felt the familiar jolting feeling in his stomach that came whenever he even thought of telling his friends about his condition. He scratched his forearm where a scab was healing and he wet his chapped and peeling lips before whispering, "I'm not stupid."

"No," his father vehemently agreed, sounding like Peter when he finally knew the answer to something and just had to shout it out, "you're not. You've done well. And we're very proud of you." He smiled at him from across the table but his eyes were sad, just as they were always sad. Remus often had the feeling that his father wasn't quite sure how to act around him; didn't know what to say, what to do, how to interact with the boy he'd brought into the world.

His mother, who looked so small now that Remus had seen so much of the world, made a tittering sound like a trapped bird before she said, "So, Remus, tell us about them. Your letters make them sound like a boisterous group." She tried to smile but it wavered nervously and fell flat.

Remus smiled faintly at the thought of his friends and the things he'd written home about (and more importantly, the things he'd neglected to share in his letters). "They're a little boisterous, yes," he agreed. He thought of Sirius, of the way he grinned, so sharp and wild, and the way his eyes shone when he was bursting with energy. "They're wonderful," he assured them, feeling a touch defensive. The last thing he wanted was for his parents to disapprove of his friends and ask him to cut ties with them.

The high sounds of their cutlery scraping against their dishes filled the room, and Remus's chest felt tight and ready to burst. He waited for his mother to clear her throat and tell him, croaky and sad, that it would be for the best if he stopped seeing his friends so often. If maybe he distanced himself. Just to be safe. Just in case.

She didn't, though.

"McGonagall still there?" his father asked, not looking up from his plate as he cut his steak.

"Yes," Remus said. He felt relieved, but also dismissed.

He understood what they were doing. They were hoping his friends would leave him before they had to intervene. When each of his letters arrived they probably prayed that this would be the one to tell them about his falling out with his friends. They probably prayed for it.

"Tell her I said hello," he instructed, and Remus nodded with no intention of doing so.

 

* * *

On James's 12th birthday he received an enormous care package from home. It was so full that it bulged at all sides, and when James carefully cut it open it spilled sweets all over his bed.

"I love my parents," he breathed, eyes wide and amazed. He tipped the rest of its contents out on to the bedspread and the flow of chocolates and lollies seemed endless. "This'll last us a month!"

"A month? James, you underestimate us. We can polish this off in a week if we skip enough meals," Sirius told him wisely, coming to pilfer a box of Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans from the pile. He tossed a handful of beans into his mouth and chewed on them with a reckless grin.

"I hope you get earwax flavour," James told him, and Sirius only poked his tongue out. James tossed Remus a box of sugar quills. "Here you go, Remus. Dig in."

"Thank you," he said, genuinely touched. He sounded so sincere that it drew strange looks from both James and Sirius.

James offered him one of those blindingly honest smiles he sometimes burst out with, and Remus flushed.

He held the box in his hands and smiled to himself; his chest felt warm and full and his face was prickling hot. He couldn't help feeling as though his life was going perfectly. He had friends. Friends who shared their birthday presents with him. Friends who sent him books for Christmas. He had  _friends_.

 

* * *

They were sitting outside, taking advantage of the surprisingly nice weather. Remus was trying to do his homework despite frequent interruptions from his friends who held little regard for homework or schoolwork in general.

Lily and Severus were sitting across the yard, heads bowed as they read together. James hadn't taken his eyes off them from the moment he'd spied them. He reminded Remus of an animal on a hunt, sniffing the air and waiting for a chance to catch his prey.

"Don't know why she's always with Snivellus," James huffed sulkily. "He's so... so..."

"Unfortunate looking?" Sirius offered lazily. He was lying back in the grass, propped up on his elbows. His eyes were shut and he had his face lifted to the sun like a flower seeking its light. "Greasy? Smelly? Slytherin?"

"Yes!" James agreed, nodding and looking pleased. "Yes, all of that! Greasy and smelly and Slytherin. He's just – he's so  _gross._ "

"You sound like you're afraid he's diseased," Sirius snorted with a breathy, sleepy laugh. " _Watch out, Evans,_ " he said, mimicking James, " _Snivellus'll give you cooties._ " He disappeared behind chuckles.

"Laugh now," James said direly, "but when Evans is sent to St. Mungo's because of all the diseases he's given her, you'll know I was right."

Remus looked up at Lily and Severus who were now talking amiably, completely oblivious to James's watchful gaze. Remus remembered the time they'd approached him in the library. Lily had sat with him several times since then – she was a great help with his Potions work. However she'd not brought Severus with her since, which was wise, since Remus had the impression that Severus hated him. The last thing Remus needed was for James to start a fight with Severus, which Lily would then scold Remus for not preventing the next time they studied together.

"She told me they know each other from outside of school," Remus said as he chewed on the end of his quill. "They must live near each other or something."

James stared at him with enormous eyes that swirled with a dangerous mixture of emotions. "What."

"She sits with me in the library sometimes," he explained with a shrug. "We talk."

"You  _talk?_ " James echoed with astonishment."Why didn't you tell me this immediately?" he wailed, and he shook Remus by the shoulders.

"Hey, hey, hey! Hands off the little guy, he's easily bruised," Sirius pointed out, watching them from between his dark eyelashes.

James released him instantly and Remus glared at Sirius, who only smirked back at him and then shut his eyes entirely and tipped his head back to let the sun touch more of his skin. Remus didn't like them treating him as though he might break at any second. He didn't like them treating him differently.

"I didn't mention it because it didn't seem important," Remus answered eventually, his tone dry.

" _Everything_ about Evans is important, Remus," James moaned with great distress. Then to Sirius he said, "I always just assumed they met on the train, didn't you?"

Sirius didn't open his eyes. "Yep."

James looked at Remus again. "If you value my friendship, you will convince Lily Evans to date me."

"I do, and I won't," Remus replied, fighting a grin. "You're on your own, there. I'll put in a good word, but I'm not about to tell her you're her Mr. Right."

"You're a cruel man, Remus Lupin," James sighed. He ran his hand through his hair and adjusted his glasses, looking morose. He stared longingly after Lily.

"Uh," Peter interrupted, tapping Remus on the arm and looking quite frustrated, "how do you spell 'McGonagall'? I think I've left out an 'e'."

 

* * *

"My cousin Annette's getting married," Remus lied, staring intently at his shoes, "and I have to go. It's a big deal. Big – it's a big family thing."

James snorted and said, "Yeah, weddings usually are."

"But we have a Charms test tomorrow," Sirius reminded him, not that Remus had forgotten – Merlin, how could he? He'd spent weeks studying for the thing.

"I'm going to fail it," Peter said mournfully, and no one contradicted him.

Remus put on a brave face and said, "I'll just have to do it some other time. Flitwick'll understand."

"I hope so," James murmured, watching Remus with the kind of gentle pity that made Remus's skin flush and itch.

That night when he and Madam Pomfrey crossed the yard towards the Whomping Willow, he felt burning worry crawling through his veins.

 

* * *

He spent the next night in the hospital wing because Madam Pomfrey thought his condition was 'concerning'. He felt ill enough to agree with her prescription of a good night's rest, and he slept without complaint.

"You're a growing boy and you're heading into puberty," she began when he woke the next day, still aching and covered in blotchy dark bruises, "so I think we can expect your transformations to be more difficult. At least until you stop growing."

"So it'll be worse for years."

"Only a little," she affirmed, but from the way his joints ached, he worried she was being gentle on him.

 

* * *

He was running out of excuses. He was running out of imaginary cousins, imaginary weddings, imaginary grandparents, and imaginary funerals. There were only so many times his mother could have pneumonia and require his immediate presence at her side.

It was clear that his friends were suspicious. They met his lies with half-hearted inquiries that were more for his sake than their own, and when he returned, battered and bruised and gasping at sudden aches and pains, they watched him with undisguised pity in their eyes.

"You know, Remus," Sirius murmured the night before they were going home for the summer, when the others were asleep and the dormitory was warm and quiet, soft with the sound of sleep, "we'd never judge you. About anything."

"That's good to know," Remus managed to whisper in a warbled voice. His heart threatened to rise into his throat and choke him dead. His fingers clenched at the sheets and all he could hear was the thundering chorus of his own brain screaming.

_He knows, he knows, he knows._

Sirius rolled to his side to face him. Remus wanted to close his eyes and turn the other way.

"In fact," Sirius said, sounding cautious, like he knew just how frightened Remus was and just how carefully he had to tread, "we might even understand."

"I'm sorry, but I don't know what you're talking about," Remus lied, pretending to find the whole conversation bemusing.

Remus couldn't breathe around his fear. His friends were going to figure it out. They were going to realise that his absences always coincided with the full moon, that the scratches and bruises all over his body weren't from a clumsiness he didn't possess, that he wasn't the person they thought he was. They were going to leave him, like he'd known all along that they would, because hadn't it always been too good to be true? They'd find out, and he'd be alone again, just like his parents wanted.

"Remus-"

"Sirius," he croaked thickly, the act abandoned, "please don't."

His friend sighed with disappointment. Whether at himself or at Remus, he couldn't tell.

"Alright," he said gently. "Alright – sure – I'll... I'll drop it."

Remus lay awake until he was certain Sirius's deep, even breathing meant he was asleep, and then he crawled out of bed and rushed to the bathroom to heave into the basin. He threw up twice before his stomach emptied. He clung weakly to the stone basin and tried to breathe evenly. The acidic stink of vomit was thick in the air, and it made him feel even sicker.

He splashed water over his face until he somehow managed to calm down. Eventually, after a very long time of standing still with his eyes clenched shut, he looked up at his reflection in the bathroom mirror.

_They can't know_ , he thought.  _They can't._

 

* * *

"Don't forget to write to me," Sirius reminded Remus once they'd stepped off the Hogwarts Express the following afternoon. "I know where you live, and if I don't receive weekly letters I'll start sending Howlers. Howlers in the plural, Remus.  _Multiple_  Howlers. I'm sure mum has loads of blank ones hidden around the house, jammed in cupboards and hidden under piano lids. Hell, she probably has so many she's giving them away. She probably wipes her arse with them."

Remus grinned at him and bumped their shoulders together playfully. "I'll write you daily," he promised. "I'll tell you about everything that's happened since the last letter." He pretended to write in the air with an imaginary quill as he said, " _Dear Sirius, today I had a sandwich. It was a little dry. Tomorrow I think I'll have soup instead. I'm wearing grey socks and I have an itch behind my ear. Sincerely, Remus J Lupin._ "

"On second thought," Sirius teased, "maybe you shouldn't write to me. Keep all that fun stuff stored up and you'll have more to tell me when we see each other again."

There was a sharp call of "Sirius!" from somewhere in a crowd of waiting parents, and Sirius's eyes snapped in that direction. His face seemed to freeze before Remus's eyes.

James, who was behind them struggling with his trunk, asked in a strangely subdued tone, "Your parents?"

Sirius only nodded.

"Good luck," James said solemnly. "If it gets too bad-"

"I know," Sirius interrupted, "and thanks. I'll – I'll write if..." He trailed off. "Well," he said, turning a smile to them all, one that didn't reach his eyes, "I'd best be off. I'll see you around, gentlemen."

Peter waved. "Seeya, Sirius," he said a little sadly.

"Bye," Remus murmured. He didn't know what else to say.

James and Sirius looked at each other for a moment before James nodded his head and Sirius returned the gesture. Remus felt a twinge of jealousy at their easy companionship, at their closeness. The moment of bitter emotion was gone, however, the moment Sirius's face shuttered off again and he turned and left for his parents.

"Poor son of a banshee," James muttered once he had disappeared through the crowd. "I don't envy him, living in that household. They're all insane, the whole lot of 'em."

Remus gnawed painfully on his lip and prayed the break would go by quickly.

 


	3. Chapter 3

A fortnight into the summer break and Remus had enough letters to wallpaper his bedroom with. He had pages upon pages of Sirius's smooth, slanted cursive; of James's bold, cramped print; of Peter's thin, wavering scratches. He folded each letter and kept them in a drawer in his desk. He'd want to read through them again one day, he knew he would. He liked that – revisiting old memories and the sort.

He began keeping a calendar. He crossed off each day as he counted down to the start of school.

When the full moon came he met it with eager anticipation. It meant he was a day closer to being back with his friends. Back at Hogwarts. Back where he felt – and was it wrong of him? – most at home.

 

* * *

Remus's father took him to the station on September 1st while his mother stayed at home and cleaned the attic. She'd hugged him goodbye at the house and asked for his forgiveness ( _"I'm so sorry, Remus, I just can't leave when there's so much work to be done, you understand, don't you? You've always been a smart boy. My little genius, you are."_ ) and then she waved from the window as they left the yard.

"She should go outside more often," Remus said quietly, not sure if he was supposed to talk about it. "There's nothing to be afraid of out here."

His father wore a look of intense worry that didn't lift, not even when Remus stared directly at him. His mother would have hidden it.

"Have a good year," he said when they stood on the platform, and he ruffled Remus's hair like he'd often done when he was younger. "Don't get up to too much mischief."

Remus smiled at him the way he knew he ought to, but he couldn't help feeling as though he was being farewelled by someone else's father. By someone he didn't know.

No one had ever told him so, but Remus knew it was because of his father that he'd been bitten as a child. The guilt still lingered around him, still hid in the way he looked at Remus and in the way he handled each full moon. It was clear in his thoughtful frown and quiet politeness,  _obvious_  in that beseeching sadness that clung to him.

Remus never asked his parents about it. It would only upset them.

He found his friends on the platform and they boarded together. Sirius's parents were nowhere to be seen, and Sirius seemed all the happier because of it.

The train was alive with excited chatter and people kept walking past their carriage, and each face brought back memories. Remus had somehow managed to forget that there were so many people in the world, that while he had spent his summer hidden away at home the rest of the universe had continued on without him.

Despite the excitement of being back with his friends, Remus struggled to stay awake. The motion of the train lulled him into a drowsiness that he didn't have the will to escape. His body was still exhausted from the last full moon and he'd had little sleep the night before. When his eyes slid shut he didn't bother to open them again.

He woke when the train stopped at Hogsmeade. The three of his friends watched him with identical looks of concern.

"Sorry," he said groggily, "did I miss anything? I didn't mean to fall asleep."

James pulled his trunk down from the overheard luggage compartment for him. "You were tired, it's okay," he said softly.

Remus blinked the sleep from his eyes, smiled at him, and then followed the crowd out of the train and on to the station. He still felt half asleep. Twice he had to pinch the fabric of Sirius's robes between his fingers so he wouldn't lose him through the sea of bodies. He felt so drowsy that he worried it might happen without much effort on his behalf.

"What's wrong with Remus?" he heard Peter whisper to James as they waited for a carriage to take them to the castle. "Why's he look so sick?"

Sirius turned to Remus immediately and began telling him a story about his mother, who had apparently tried to order the family house-elf, Kreacher, to lock him in the attic as punishment for decorating his bedroom in Gryffindor colours. Remus knew it was his attempt at distracting him from Peter and James, but he didn't mind. He listened and offered sympathy and laughter where it was necessary.

During the summer he'd somehow managed to forget how charismatic his friends were – Sirius especially – and now that he was back with them he felt himself calming, felt the tension easing from his joints and his chest lightening. He was always his happiest at Hogwarts – or rather, always his happiest with his friends.

 

* * *

"Black, Regulus!" was called first out of the new students, and Sirius sat up straighter beside Remus, his eyes bright and hopeful. People at their table turned to glance at him uncertainly, their thoughts clear on their bewildered faces – _Sirius had a brother?_

The boy who stepped forward from the throng of younger students was pale and thin with black hair. He looked exactly like Sirius. When he sat on the stool and the Hat was dropped down around his ears, Remus was sure he heard Sirius whisper a prayer.

There was silence.

Then, " _SLYTHERIN!_ "

Sirius dropped down into his seat, no longer stiff-backed and excited. He stared after his brother as he removed the Hat and wandered over to the Slytherin table; he glanced at the Gryffindor table anxiously before he disappeared from view.

People were watching Sirius, expecting a reaction.

"I guess lightning never strikes twice," he sighed, trying to smile at them.

Sirius had never said much about his brother other than that he had one and he was small and annoying. He never wrote to his family, never received anything from them, and he'd never once talked to his cousins while at school, who were prominent and popular in Slytherin house. But despite all of that, Remus couldn't help thinking that Sirius was different with his brother. The look of hope on his face and in his posture, his whisper of, " _Please, please._.." before the Hat called out its decision...

The rest of the students were sorted and then the feast appeared. There came a gasp of thrilled surprise from the first years – was that how they'd sounded last year? – and then there was the chorus of cutlery and chewing and pleasant conversation throughout the hall.

Remus chewed listlessly on a salad while James tried to tempt him with meat.

"Not hungry," he said, and it was true, he wasn't, he hadn't been all day.

"Are you sure you're alright?" Peter asked, apparently now worried enough to ask Remus directly rather than whisper about him behind his back.

He nodded drowsily. "I've got a cold, that's all." He pretended to sniffle.

Sirius kept looking at the Slytherins.

 

* * *

"You're good at this," Lily praised him, and Remus shook his head.

"Nah, not really." Inspiration struck him, and he added, "James is, though." It wasn't a lie – James was the best at Transfiguration out of all of them. McGonagall was frequently exasperated at his lack of motivation, however. She claimed he didn't care about his grades and was only in class for the fun of it. She was mostly right.

"James," Lily repeated, and she sounded disappointed. "Really." It wasn't a question – it was an expression of blank and utter disbelief if Remus had ever heard one.

"Yeah," he said, "he's actually smarter than you might think, considering how... er, how..."

"How idiotic he behaves? How pompous he is? Proud? Arrogant?"

Remus took offense. "Hey!" he whined. "He's not  _that_  bad!"

She sighed, and it was as though all the anger and hostility was being let out of her. She seemed to deflate. "You're right, I'm sorry."

He didn't push it any further. He'd done his duty, he'd put in a good word for James. The ball was in his court now.

They continued their Transfiguration homework; Remus helped her with the written work, and she gave him tips on the wand-work. They worked well together, Remus thought.

They'd been working for an hour when someone entered the library, and Lily sighed, "Severus is headed this way. I asked him not to come here. I know you don't get along."

Severus reached them just as Remus was about to explain that he personally had no issue with Severus - that it was James and Sirius, really, but there was no time.

"Lily," Severus said politely, nodding at her in somewhat cold acknowledgment. "Lupin," he added darkly, looking briefly at Remus, his eyes black and glistening. He always managed an air of grimness, Remus had found. It was off-putting.

Lily cleared her throat and said a little awkwardly, "I thought we were meeting later, Sev?"

"We are. I came here looking for someone else, but they don't seem to be here yet." He looked around the library as he spoke.

Remus rolled his eyes. He had his doubts about the truthfulness of what Severus had just said. It was most likely that he'd come to spy on Lily, to make sure Remus wasn't trying to steal her away from him. He wouldn't put that sort of creepy thinking past the other boy.

"I saw that, Lupin," Severus snapped, and his eyes were on him again, dark and beady and cold.

Remus was sure Severus was about to start shouting at him – about things he felt Remus had personally done, or about the things his friends had done and Remus had allowed – but a familiar voice interrupted them and caught their attention.

"Severus!" called the voice, and if Remus hadn't been certain that Sirius was currently helping James train for the upcoming Quidditch try-outs, he'd have thought his friend had just spoken.

Severus turned in the direction of the voice. "Regulus," he said, low and pleased in a way that made Remus frown, "I was just looking for you."

Up close Regulus looked even more like Sirius than Remus had thought possible. His hair fell in the same casual, unruly way, and his eyes were the same light grey. He smiled at Severus and Remus couldn't help but think that it was Sirius, it was Sirius and he was smiling at Severus, and he was in Slytherin robes and it was impossible.

Regulus stood beside Severus and told him he'd saved a table, and his books were there, and he just had to run back to the common room to get his spare quill, so could he look after his things for him, please? Severus agreed smarmily, clearly enjoying the show. He'd probably set the meeting up, Remus thought. Set it up when he knew Lily and Remus would be in the library so Remus would see and would tell Sirius, who would get upset about his brother being friends with the boy he hated.

Oblivious to the role he was playing in Severus's game, Regulus smiled and started for the exit. As he left he glanced over his shoulder and his eyes – Sirius's eyes – met with Remus's. He frowned, confused, and looked away before left the library and disappeared.

"Wow," Lily breathed once Severus had disappeared to wait at Regulus's table. "They could be twins."

"They're not," Remus said, which made him feel stupid. Of course they weren't. They were in different years, weren't they? Lily knew they weren't twins. It was just that Remus suddenly felt the need to assure her that he knew Sirius, knew him better than almost everyone. They were friends, best friends.

"Severus mentioned he was tutoring someone," Lily murmured, "but I didn't think..."

Remus could only wonder what Sirius would do if he knew his younger brother was on a first-name basis with Severus Snape. Remus resolved never to mention it to him, for fear of dying in the explosive rage that would ensue.

 

* * *

James was dressed in a Quidditch uniform that was almost too big for him, and his glasses had been replaced with Quidditch goggles. He shook all over with nerves and adrenaline as he gave his wand to Sirius and demanded he look after it for him.

"Curse anyone who looks like they might be better than me, okay?" he croaked, and then he jogged out on to the pitch to join the rest of the students who were trying out for the team.

Peter got out his wand and pointed it at a fifth year boy who was near James on the pitch, stretching and readying himself for his trial. A malicious look on was on Peter's face. Sirius yelped and swatted him across the back of the head before he could utter a curse.

"Stupid boy," he sighed, shaking his head exasperatedly, "he didn't  _mean it_."

"I'm not so sure," Remus groused, watching James dry retch into the grass.

Sirius looked queasy. "I don't think I can take it if he loses, Remus," he said through thin lips. "I can't watch him lose."

Remus choked around a smile and wheezed, "You sound like you're his mum!"

"Mrs Potter's a fine woman, with legs that go for miles," Sirius told him in the same worried voice, his eyes glued to James who was now on his broomstick up in the air with the rest of the students trying for Chaser. "I'd be honoured to be her."

"Don't worry so much," Remus advised, and at the same time he reached over and took Peter's wand from him before he could curse the same boy he'd been eyeing earlier.

"Aw!" he complained.

"Hey, have you talked to Regulus yet?" Remus asked, hoping to distract Sirius from worrying so much. It worked.

Sirius froze, noticeably tensing all over. "No," he said thickly, "I haven't. And I don't intend to."

"He's your brother," he reminded him gently.

"He's a Slytherin, too," Sirius countered. "I bet our parents have already named him as their heir. They were probably worried he'd go the same way as me and then they'd be forced to procreate once more." He put on the high, unpleasant voice he often used when he was pretending to be his mother and squawked, " _I'm keeping all my clothes on! Don't look at me! Don't even speak! Don't breathe so loudly! Do you want this son, or not? Come on, hurry up! Kreacher can cook a frozen turkey faster than this! Eugh, disappointing as ever. Let's hope this one's worth it._ "

Remus spluttered and coughed and managed to rasp, "You're  _foul!_ "

" _They're_ foul!"

"James is  _winning_!" Peter shrieked.

 

* * *

He told his friends he was sick with dragon pox and then disappeared to the hospital wing before they could start interrogating him about his lack of symptoms. He probably could have thought of a better excuse, but he was running out of them. Dragon pox would have to do.

Madam Pomfrey met him with a smile. "I've been researching all summer," she told him, jumping right in. "I was right about what I told you last year. It's worse for teenagers. Growth spurts, hormones – none of it helps."

"Great," drawled Remus, whose body was already a big enough mess, and whose transformations were already quite excruciating. "Really great. That's just wonderful."

"From what I've read there's not much that can be done to stop the pain," she went on sadly, "but there are relaxation techniques that have been reported to help."

"Relaxation techniques," he repeated blankly.

She nodded and with a flick of her wand, summoned several books from her office. "Here," she said, and he took them. "They might help. They're for meditation."

He read the titles with a doubtful frown.  _River of Relaxation_ featured a picture of a man floating down a river, a dumb look on his face. Remus, needless to say, wasn't too sold on it.

"Leave them here," Madam Pomfrey said cheerily, "and tomorrow you can take them with you. Read them when you can. They might come in handy."

 

* * *

"Snivellus!" James bellowed, hands cupped around his mouth to make the insult louder. "Snivellus, watch where you're going!"

On cue Sirius muttered a tripping curse that sent Severus sprawling over the stone floor. His bag sprung open and his books and parchment scattered everywhere. There was the sound of smashed glass, and ink began to pool around him.

Sirius and James hurried forward to reach him before he could get to his feet and draw his wand on them. Sirius had him petrified on the floor before Severus stood a chance.

Remus hung back. He hated to think it, but it was embarrassing to be seen with his friends just then. Severus hadn't done anything to them, and the way they'd spontaneously attacked him...

"Snivellus, your ink's going to stain your things!" Sirius laughed, picking up one of his books and allowing the ink to drip from the soaked pages.

"I'll kill you," Severus snarled from the floor, unable to move a muscle to defend himself, "I'll murder you both."

"Hey!" cried Peter indignantly. He no doubt felt excluded from the threat.

"Lupin," snarled Severus, his voice so full of hate that it sent Remus a step back, "Lily won't think you're so high and mighty once she hears about this!"

James laughed nastily. "Oh, running to mummy, are you?" he asked. The people who had gathered around them laughed too.

"Jealous, Potter?" Severus hissed, and the dark cloud that passed over James's face was enough to get Remus to step in.

"We've got Transfiguration," Remus said, hurrying forward, placing a hand on James's arm, "we can't be late or McGonagall'll kill us."

"Yeah," James muttered, face cold, "yeah, you're right. But first, let's hide Snivellus's things."

They left Severus immobilised on the floor, but only after all of his books had been Vanished.

Remus's face burned hot with shame for the rest of the day.

 

* * *

He tried reading the books Madam Pomfrey had given him. He read chapter after chapter, studied diagram after diagram, and yet he didn't know quite how to do it.

_Let yourself go. Allow the silence to wash over you. Release your anchors and float away._

Remus scowled at the words, snorted " _Anchors!_ " under his breath, and shut the book with a soft  _thud_.

He'd try them later.

He forgot about the books until a month later when Sirius accidentally stumbled upon them.

"What are they?" Sirius asked when he saw the books beside his bed, hidden (or so Remus had thought) under his Potions textbook.

"Books," Remus replied.

"You're a great help," Sirius said, deadpan. "Books. I'd have never guessed."

Remus turned to dig his best sweater out of his wardrobe, which gave Sirius the opening he needed.

Sirius had the books before Remus could have hoped to stop him – his legs still hurt from the last full moon, he didn't want to be chasing his friend around.

" _Empty Mind, Full Soul_ ," Sirius read aloud, his expression tightening in worried confusion. " _Peaceful People_? Remus, what are these books for?"

He saw no way out of it. "Meditating," he groaned, massaging his forehead where a headache was growing. "Apparently I'm stressed." He glared at Sirius and said pointedly, "I can't see why, though, since I live such a stress-free life and I have such caring, helpful friends."

Sirius wasn't letting himself be distracted. "Stressed according to whom?" he asked, voice tight.

He could tell him. He could tell him that Madam Pomfrey thought he needed the books. He could lie, say his mother sent them. He could avoid the question altogether – could start a conversation about Quidditch, about homework, about Regulus.

"Remus," Sirius said gently, and Remus lifted his eyes to his face. He looked confused and sincere – like he wanted to  _help_.

"Madam Pomfrey," he ground out, and the change in Sirius's expression was drastic. His eyes widened, his skin paled, and he looked twice as likely to be violently and horrifically ill all over the dormitory floor.

"You've been to see  _Madam Pomfrey_?" he croaked, like the idea was absurd. Remus nearly laughed – if only Sirius knew how often he saw the woman. "Why? What's wrong? Are you sick?" He still had  _Peaceful People_  in his hand and he waved it around as he cried, "Why is she giving you books about meditation?"

Sirius looked concerned, and behind the nervous annoyance at the books having been discovered, Remus felt genuinely touched. It was surprisingly nice knowing Sirius cared about his health, as strange as it sounded.

"It's nothing," he said quietly, "I'm just stressed, that's all. School's getting on top of me. That Potions essay's due tomorrow and I haven't even started the Transfiguration assignment. It's hard being studious, Sirius. You wouldn't know, since you're just, y'know, naturally brilliant and everything, but for us little people it's difficult." He took a deep breath and tried to stop rambling. "But yes. Stress. School. Work. Books. Does that – is that an answer? Is that okay?"

Sirius met him with a doubtful look that warmed the light grey of his eyes.

"I'm  _fine_ ," Remus assured him, and how was it possible that he felt bad about it, that he felt a new weight of guilt settle upon his shoulders? He wished he could just tell him, just get it out there in the open and have done with it.

_I'm a werewolf_ , he thought.  _Can you hear me? I'm a werewolf._

"The minute I find out you're sick, Remus Lupin, I'm killing you," threatened Sirius, who pointed  _Peaceful People_  at him like his mother might point her finger while scolding him.

Remus snickered and took the book from him. "Yes, mum."

 

* * *

They celebrated Halloween in a different way than the year prior. James claimed he'd discovered a secret passageway out of the school, one that only he knew, and that it'd be for the best if they tested it out when the majority of the school was at the Halloween ball.

"And if we get caught?" Remus asked reluctantly, following his friends through the abandoned halls. "What then?"

"We run, obviously," Sirius cackled.

They were headed in the direction of the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom. Remus gnawed nervously on his lip and wondered if James wasn't just leading them on a wild goose chase.

"Here," James said. They were standing before the statue of the one-eyed witch that was just outside the classroom they'd been in earlier that day while learning how to identify cursed objects. Remus had done well, but he was sure he'd understand it better when he read over Lily's notes with her later. "It's through her."

"Through her?" Peter echoed.

James took out his wand and cleared his throat. "Err," he murmured after a moment, a look of doubt now colouring his face, "give me a second." He approached the statue and began whispering to it, tapping it with his wand as he did.

"He's gone barmy," Sirius moaned. "What'll I tell his mum?  _Dear Mrs Potter, your son lost his marbles trying to get into a one-eyed witch statue. Yours, Sirius._ "

"Shut up," James told him with a breathless chuckle, and then, "I think I've got it. I just... I forgot for a bit, that's all."

Remus smirked. "You forgot the password."

"It's been known to happen to the best of us," he replied. "I bet even Dumbledore forgets the password to his office every once in a while." He tapped the statue with his wand and said, clear and precise, " _Dissendium_!"

The hump on the statue opened, revealing a small tunnel inside. James turned and grinned smarmily at them.

"Yeah, yeah," Sirius snickered, "you're a genius – we get it already. Come on, let's go."

It was the first secret passageway they found, even if James did later admit he'd overheard a sixth year student talking about it.

 

* * *

Now that James was a Chaser it was expected of Remus to attend his games. The year before Remus had managed to weasel his way out of several matches by claiming he had homework or that he wasn't feeling his best. This year he doubted the same technique would work.

"You're one of my best friends, Remus," James exclaimed as they made their way down to the pitch after breakfast the morning of a match against Ravenclaw. He was still eating his breakfast and had several pieces of toast in one hand. "You should be  _honoured_  to watch me fly!"

Sirius snorted and punched James in the arm. "Arrogant git!" he teased.

"You wait and see," he said through a splitting grin, "I'll make sure we win this game."

They sat in the Gryffindor stands and screamed themselves hoarse with the rest of their house. Remus hadn't thought he'd enjoy himself, but there was something contagious about the cheers of his housemates that left him bubbly and excited. When a Ravenclaw Beater sent a Bludger into James's arm, nearly knocking him off his broom, it was Sirius who had to hold Remus back before he stumbled out of the stands and tried to run on to the pitch.

James, true to his word, still managed to win the game.

The cheering was deafening, and Remus loved it.

 

* * *

James and Peter had gone through the one-eyed witch statue to steal some supplies from the Honeyduke's cellar while Sirius and Remus were pilfering food from the Hogwarts kitchens. Gryffindor's victory against Ravenclaw was a cause for celebration.

"Let's not take too much," Remus said as they walked. Last time they'd raided the kitchens they'd left with more food than they had any intention of eating and it had weighed on his conscience afterwards. "I feel bad abusing their generosity."

"They're only house-elves," Sirius said breezily, a lifetime of pure-blood certainties assuring him he was correct in his judgement, "they don't care."

Remus gnawed on his lip and shrugged.

They turned a corner, nearing the kitchens, when someone walked head-long into them.

"Merlin, sorry," Remus gasped.

The boy they'd collided with brushed his robes as though he'd dirtied himself and looked up to say something, when they all realised.

"Sirius," said the boy, his voice dripping with suspicion, as though he suspected Sirius of following him or setting up the accidental meeting.

"Regulus," Sirius grumbled, sounding equally paranoid. He crossed his arms and slid almost unnoticeably closer to Remus. "What're you doing walking around at this time of the night?"

Regulus glared at him. "I was hoping to catch someone alone so I could murder them and perform sacrificial ceremonies on their corpse in the name of the Dark Lord. You?"

"I was hoping to save a Muggle child from dangerous Dark wizards and then sacrifice myself in the name of the light, myself."

"The usual, then," Regulus said casually, nodding as though they were having a perfectly normal conversation.

"Well," sighed Sirius, rocking back on to his heels and then back down on to the soles of his feet, "it sure has been fun catching up with you."

Regulus grinned at him nastily, all teeth and narrowed eyes, a look that Sirius often gave Severus, and he said, "It's been a real hoot."

As if synchronised, the two of them continued walking in their original directions. Remus stared after Regulus for a moment before he hurried to catch up with Sirius.

"What was that?" he hissed. "I'm not sure if you're aware, but that was a very worrying conversation, Sirius! Sacrificial ceremonies? Saving Muggle children? I don't even want to know what kind of messed up stuff goes on in your house."

Sirius's eyes were flinty and dark. "Come on," he said, "let's just get the food."

Remus turned the conversation over and over again in his head, trying to decipher the Black code, but came up blank each time.

 

* * *

"Any luck with the books?" Madam Pomfrey asked as she healed a cut that had caused his right eye to swell so badly that he couldn't see from that side.

He allowed his shoulders to slump as he whined, "They're stupid."

"Don't be like that," scolded the woman, "don't dismiss things simply because you don't understand them. That's foolish."

He sighed and rolled his one working eye.

"Cheer up," she told him as she produced a chocolate bar from her apron pocket. "Here," she said, snapping some off, "eat this. It'll make things better."

Surprisingly, it did.

 

* * *

"Muggles drink orange juice with their breakfast, you know," Remus said the following week as he held his glass of pumpkin juice and stared at the murky liquid. "I don't – I mean, they drink the juice of oranges. I understand that pumpkin juice is orange, I didn't mean – hey, don't look at me like that, Sirius, I'm making perfect sense, you just don't understand what I'm trying to say here."

"Why do we let him sit with us, James?" Sirius asked teasingly, but Remus's stomach clenched and hardened all the same.

Why  _did_  they let him sit with them?

"I don't know, Sirius," James said playfully, watching Remus with fond eyes, "I like him, I think we should keep him."

Sirius  _hmmm_ 'd contemplatively and then said, "Yes, I agree. Let's keep him."

Remus smiled shakily at them, feeling horribly exposed as both of them studied him, and then went back to looking at his pumpkin juice. He stared at it as though it held the meaning of life in its dark orange depths.

The post arrived then, taking Sirius and James's eyes from him as they looked up to watch the arrival. The hall filled with owls that swooped over the tables and Remus watched as Bradley Burvich at the Ravenclaw table received a letter that landed in his porridge.

"I was thinking," James began conversationally, toying with the scrambled eggs on his plate he hadn't yet eaten, "we should stay here over the Christmas break. We could explore. The place will be practically empty."

Remus's eyes travelled unbidden to Sirius's face. He was looking at James with something akin to suspicious astonishment.

"Your parents," he said, "won't they be upset?"

"Nah," James told him, and Remus heard the casual lie.

"I'll stay," Peter offered. "I don't do nothing at home, anyway."

They all looked at Remus. He swallowed audibly.

"Come on, Remus," wheedled James, "it'll be an adventure! Like in those books you read!"

He bit his lip. He wanted to stay, sweet Merlin's pants he wanted to stay, but his mother, with her tiny hands and her sad eyes, and their cellar, with its damp air and its cold floor –

"You don't have to," Sirius told him comfortingly. "You can go home if you'd prefer." He grinned, laughed, and then said, "We're not about to chain you up so you-"

Remus flinched so violently he knocked his fork off his plate. It landed on the floor with a clatter. Peter dived to retrieve it, a magpie swooping for silver.

"I'll stay," Remus told them. If his voice shook they didn't mention it.

 

* * *

He wrote to his parents, but knew it was his mother who'd need convincing. He could hear his father already, could hear the gruff no-nonsense way he'd say, "There's no need to carry on, he's not an infant. He's with Dumbledore, he's safe, now cheer up."

Professor McGonagall came around the common room with the list, pausing before each student as she did, asking where they intended to spend the break.

"And you four?" she asked when she came to them.

"All staying," said James, a smile broad on his face. He looked proudly at the three of them.

Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. "I'll be watching you very carefully, then," she warned them as she scratched their names down on the parchment, her quill so long and large that it jerked wildly with the movement of her hand. The feather must have tickled her once or twice on the ear.

"She's a sweetheart, that one," Sirius sighed after her.

James snorted and threw his own shoe at him. "If you start saying things like ' _I bet I can bring out the younger woman in her_ ' I'll know you've been replaced by an imposter."

Sirius grinned, happier than Remus had seen him in months.


	4. Chapter 4

"Oh, Ernie, that bag looks so  _heavy_ ," Sirius cried mournfully as Ernie Rigsby carried his enormous travelling bag down from his dormitory and into the common room on the day that the rest of the school was due to go home for the Christmas break.

"It is, Black, so watch your step or I might drop it on you," Ernie replied waspishly.

Sirius grinned and chased after him, hollering, "You're going to carry that all the way to the station? Oh, Ernie, your arm will fall off!"

"He's asking for a battering," James said fondly, his arms folded over his chest and a fatherly expression on his twelve year old face.

"That he is," Remus agreed with a smirk. He offered his box of Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans to James, who took one.

"Thanks," he said. "Hey, you up for a game of chess later?"

Remus wasn't that good at chess – nowhere near as good as James, who had apparently grown up striving to beat his father at a game of it – but he had nothing better to do now that he wouldn't be spending the day on the train on his way back home. He shrugged.

"Sure," he said, "but you can provide the food. I'm almost out of Beans."

James laughed and helped himself to another. "Deal."

 

* * *

Remus was surprised to discover that they were the sole Gryffindors to stay over the Christmas break. Remus guessed that most people weren't that eager to spend Christmas away from their families. He knew he'd miss his mother's cooking. As soon as he thought of it –  _Merlin_ how she cooked steak, so rare it was almost raw – his stomach rumbled.

"When you told me to provide the food I didn't realise it was because you were starving," James said jovially, pushing the plate of salad sandwiches towards him.

"I wasn't," Remus told him, "but then I started thinking of Christmas dinner."

"Less eating," Sirius called from the armchair by the fire, "and more chess playing. I want you to hurry up and finish already."

James rolled his eyes and snorted over his shoulder, "You're so uncouth, Black."

Sirius barked with laughter. "You wouldn't know couth if you stepped in it, Potter!"

Remus rubbed at his eye, feeling the tell-tale static of an incoming headache building behind his brow. The full moon was after Christmas; he still had a few days.

"Are you alright?" James asked him quietly, far too observant for his own good. Remus thought he'd have made an excellent Seeker for how good he spotted things.

"Headache." He rubbed absently at his temple and then made his move.

James cackled before he cheered gleefully, "Checkmate!"

They watched the chess pieces battle. James's came out triumphant, as Remus had known it would all along.

Remus was glad it was over. His head throbbed along with his pulse and it hurt to concentrate. "Well played," he said earnestly. "I knew you'd win."

James beamed at him and asked, "Rematch?"

Remus was about to politely decline when Sirius did it for him, shouting out, " _Boring!_ "

Remus took a bite out of his sandwich to hide his grin.

 

* * *

He woke up on Christmas morning to the sound of James's triumphant hooting.

"Yes!" he whooped, throwing a glistening cloak around as though it had once belonged to Merlin himself. "Dad finally gave in – I knew he would!"

"Wassit?" gurgled Sirius, who was sitting up in his bed, his hair a mess and his eyes squinted into narrow slits.

"My dad's invisibility cloak!" he answered excitedly. He jumped on to Sirius's bed and dropped the cloak over him.

Sirius immediately disappeared from view, though he was quite clearly still in bed. His legs remained lumpy shapes beneath the blankets.

"Merlin's pants!" breathed Peter, who'd crept from his bed to Sirius's and was trying to put his hand through where Sirius was sitting.

"Ow! Quit it, Peter!"

"Wow!" Peter gasped.

Remus tumbled out of bed – how  _early_ was it? – and staggered over to his friends, rubbing at his eyes as he did. James pulled the cloak off of Sirius and threw it on top of Peter, who began shrieking in terror.

"I'm gone!" he screamed, and Sirius groaned and threw himself back into his pillows.

Peter threw the cloak off and stared at it with horror. Remus wondered, not for the first time, how the boy had managed to survive for twelve years with what little sense he had.

"They're very rare; it must've been expensive," Remus remarked around a yawn, picking the cloak up from where Peter had thrown it. It felt liquid-soft in his hands and it shimmered slightly, as if strands of pearly silver had been weaved through the fabric. "Your dad just let you have it? Just gave it to you?" He couldn't believe someone would entrust something that valuable to a boy as reckless as James, but he didn't say as much.

"It's a family heirloom," James explained, his face alive with happiness. He jumped down from Sirius's bed and came to stand by Remus. Sirius covered his head with his blankets and groaned tiredly.

Remus's eyes widened. "Family heirloom?" he echoed. "Whoa, they don't usually stay this good for so long. You'd think it would've gone cloudy by now. The pigment breaks down with age, that's why it's usually much easier to cast a Disillusionment Charm, but they're not as strong as a cloak, of course..."

"I can't believe he's given me it," James said, awestruck, seemingly incapable of processing any other thought. He looked up from the cloak to meet Remus's eyes, and he was grinning slyly. "Think of all the adventures we can have with this."

"Think of all the sleep I could be having right now," Sirius grumbled from his bed.

 

* * *

"I'm so full, I doubt I'll fit through the portrait hole," James moaned when they reached the Fat Lady after dinner that night.

Sirius patted him on the back and James cradled his stomach with both arms, his face pained.

"Ooh, careful," he groaned, "I might spew up."

"Not here you won't!" the Fat Lady cawed, and the portrait swung open.

James, despite his doubts, still managed to fit through the portrait hole.

It was the best Christmas dinner Remus had ever had, without question.

As he lay in bed listening to Peter mumbling about turkeys in his sleep he wondered what his parents were doing and if they missed him. He tried to feel guilty about not going home for the holidays, but he couldn't. Not when he could still taste the delicious Christmas pudding in his mouth.

 

* * *

"Ouch-ouch-ouch-ouch- _ouch_ ," Remus hissed as Madam Pomfrey dabbed a clear potion on the scratch below his eye. It burned and stung and left his eyes watering.

She finished with a sigh and said, "There, that part's all done. We don't want any infections, do we?" She put a stopper back into the mouth of the potion bottle and sealed it tightly before she sent it away with a flick of her wand. "How was your Christmas?" she asked as she examined his leg. "Get many sweets?"

"I did well for myself, I must say," he answered her, talking through gritted teeth. She'd never been very careful with her examinations and her fingers hurt as they pressed experimentally at the bruises that ran down his shin. It took effort not to hiss and cuss from the pain.

"I got you something," she told him suddenly, right out of the blue, and he blinked at her. She kept looking at where she was working and didn't meet his astonished gaze as she added, "Only something from Honeydukes – nothing big. Nothing expensive, so don't worry."

He felt guilty almost instantly. He hadn't bought her anything.

"I didn't expect anything in return, Remus, don't insult me," she sighed, seemingly having heard his thoughts. She stood back to look him over. "You're all healed, then. Come into my office, I've left the gift there."

He followed her through the empty hospital wing – she'd decorated it with little bells and sprigs of mistletoe and the whole room smelled sweetly of pine – to her office. She'd hung a wreath on the door, and he couldn't help but smile at it. On her desk was a small gift wrapped in red Christmas paper which she cheerfully gave to him.

"Merry Christmas," she said warmly. "Well.  _Belated_ Christmas," she amended with a smile.

He stared at the gift in his hands and searched for the right words.

"Thank you," he said vehemently, pushing all of his feeling into his voice. He knew it wasn't enough, it could never be, but he meant it, he truly did, from the very bottom of his heart he  _meant it._

As though she couldn't help herself she reached a hand out and brushed it fondly against his cheek, like his mother sometimes did. He found he didn't mind.

"Go on, then," she said, dropping her hand, and she turned and headed for her desk, "you're on holiday and you're wasting your time here with me. Be off with you."

"Thank you," he said again. He smiled at her one last time, willing all his gratitude into it, and then left.

He went the long way back to Gryffindor tower. The castle was still empty with everyone away on Christmas break, and it felt like a different castle altogether. It was as though he was seeing it for the first time - it was strange to hear only his own footsteps as he walked the lone corridors.

As he walked he turned his present over in his hands, still touched that she'd thought to get him something. He tore the paper slightly, just the corner, and peered inside. He recognised the familiar Honeydukes logo and smiled to himself.

"Hey!" Peter cheered when Remus climbed through the portrait hole. "Remus is back! With chocolate!"

"Remus has chocolate?" Sirius cried from the dormitory, and before Remus could take another step Sirius was bounding energetically down the stairs to meet him, grinning like Remus was bringing a second Christmas with him. "Where'd you get it?" he asked offhandedly, and there it was - Remus's undoing.

"Um," Remus stalled, "my mum."

Sirius seemed to freeze. His shoulders tensed, his face shuttered, and he met Remus's eyes with a look of strange bewilderment. "Your mum?" he repeated carefully, looking so unconvinced that it unnerved Remus. He wondered if it wasn't too late to back out of the portrait hole and flee.

"Yeah," he lied, "she just sent it to me." He shook the chocolate as though it could somehow convince them of this.

"Your mum just sent you that chocolate?" Sirius asked.

"That's what I said, didn't I?" he huffed, frowning now. He crossed his arms over his chest, Madam Pomfrey's block of chocolate still in his hand, and tried to shoulder past Sirius. He was still weak and sore, however, and winced at the contact, feeling the pain flare through his arm and over his shoulder, twinging at the muscles in his back.

"Remus," Sirius said quietly, "weren't you just with her?"

"No," Remus said irritably, stopping and turning back to face him, his face flushed with panic and his pulse racing, his pulse racing behind his ears, deafening him, "I was with-"

And then he stopped.

Sirius was looking at him and _looking at him_ and his eyes, his flint grey eyes, were full of soft concern, of warm-honey sympathy, and Remus was sure he was about to faint dead away, chocolates be damned.

"Remus," Sirius said (and since when had his voice been that quiet or that gentle?), "I thought you said you were needed at home. I thought you said you were going to see your parents."

Remus felt the blood rush from his face and evaporate into thin air. He felt dizzy. He could hear ringing in his ears. He began to shake. His vision flared white and clouded with indistinguishable static, and he swallowed around a thick, dry tongue.

"I was wrong," he said, and his voice sounded a million miles away, like an echo at the end of a tunnel, like he'd said it a lifetime ago and it was only just catching up to him. "I didn't mean that. I wasn't with my parents."

Sirius stepped towards him, slow and steady, and Remus was yet again reminded of how Sirius often approached him like a wild animal - hesitant, gentle, cautious.

"Where were you, Remus?" Sirius asked, his voice so soft and quiet that Remus could only just hear him past the roar in his ears and the panic that was gradually growing in his chest.

He looked frantically past Sirius's shoulder at the portrait hole. He could –

"Don't," Sirius murmured, and it wasn't a warning but a  _plea._ "Remus," he tried, "Remus."

Remus was vaguely aware of Peter having dashed to fetch James and the two of them now standing hesitantly somewhere behind him, their movements so  _loud_ because it was all Remus could do not to freeze, not to stop entirely, not to let their sounds wash over him and – what was it the meditation book had said? Let himself go, let the silence wash over him, release his anchors, float away, disappear into the universe.

James started, "Sirius, maybe we-"

Sirius's eyes flashed across to James and he said, sharper than Remus had ever heard him be with James before, "We're his friends and he needs to understand that we're not going to – to – just  _abandon_ him because of this!"

Remus heard his mother's words in his head, her quiet voice that had schooled him on his alphabet and his times tables and taught him how to lace his shoes echoing through him, reminding him, never letting him forget.

" _There's a chance... a great possibility... that if someone finds out about your illness... If someone finds out, they're not likely to take it well. Children can be so cruel..."_

He'd made friends. He'd made them, she'd told him not to but it wasn't like he tried, wasn't like he had sought them out and begged them to befriend him. They'd just fallen together, fallen into place; the four of them had fit perfectly together like the corresponding pieces of a puzzle.

They'd stayed with him, too. For all his faults, they were still there.

"Why are you doing this to me?" Remus whispered, the words falling from his lips before he'd even finished thinking them.

Sirius flinched as though he'd been electrocuted and he murmured, "Because we're your friends, Remus."

James sighed unhappily, clearly unimpressed with the way things were headed. "Sirius, he's terrified. C'mon, mate. Cut it out."

"We know, Remus," Sirius said, and there it was, plain and simple. They knew.  _Knew._

"Sirius," yelped James, sounding beyond furious.

Remus's blood pumped through his body and he could hear it and he could feel it and it jolted along with the beat of his heart. His hearing went out as white noise flooded in. His vision swam.

_We know, Remus. We know. We know. We know we know we know we know we know we know you're a dangerous animal you're a beast you shouldn't be here why did they let you come they all say Dumbledore's crazy and this is the proof you're the dangerous proof why didn't they kill you we know we know we know –_

"I'm sorry," Remus choked, "I'm so sorry, I'm sorry."

Sirius's jaw dropped and he stepped forward in a rush. Before Remus could run Sirius was hugging him, firm arms gripping him, holding him steady and upright.

"You absolute  _idiot_ , Remus Lupin," he said into his neck, the words sounding like an exhale of relief. "Don't you dare apologise."

He shut his eyes and buried his face into Sirius's shoulder, because otherwise he was going to cry. He felt Sirius's arms tighten around him, his hand rubbing circles into the small of his back, and all he could smell was Sirius, and wasn't it odd that he had his own individual smell when they shared the same space, and ate the same foods, and were exactly the same? Wasn't it odd that Sirius still smelled uniquely like Sirius?

"We don't care what you are," Sirius told him, voice muffled against his skin, "you could be a mermaid for all we care."

"Or a vampire," Peter said from nearby.

He couldn't look them in the eyes, not yet, so he spoke into Sirius's shoulder instead. "You're not angry with me?"

"Not in the slightest," James promised, sounding so relieved that Remus smiled just a little.

Sirius's arms loosened around him and he said comfortingly, "C'mon, let's sit you down and open that chocolate, huh?"

 

* * *

He sat in the best armchair with his knees drawn up to his chest as he tried to make himself as small as possible. The fire crackled brightly, turning winter into something warm, and Sirius broke off another piece of chocolate and handed it to him.

"You're encouraging emotional eating, y'know," Peter warned him tersely.

"You're really not upset?" Remus asked for what was probably the tenth time. He couldn't stop worrying that in the time since he'd last asked they'd have changed their minds. His heart wouldn't stop racing, his stomach wouldn't stop twisting into knots. He needed them to be sure. He couldn't bare it if they changed their minds.

Sirius shook his head and smiled at him, soft and gentle, two things that Sirius usually wasn't. "Not at all," he said sincerely.

"We've known for ages, and it's not like we've freaked out on you or nothing," Peter told him, "so we're not about to freak out now, y'know?"

"Thanks, Peter," Remus said, and he tossed him the piece of chocolate Sirius had handed him. Peter took it happily.

"The only upsetting thing about this whole ordeal has been your pitiful lying," James told him with a theatrical shudder. "Your excuses were causing me actual physical pain. You weren't even coming up with good ones any more. Your mother needed help shovelling snow off the driveway? In  _spring_? Really, Remus? That's the best you've got?"

"Hey," Sirius said with mock defensiveness, "let's see you come up with a better excuse when you're a day away from transforming into a werewolf, eh, Potter?"

Strangely enough, Remus didn't flinch at the word.

"I'm great at excuses," James argued.

"Rubbish. Remember that time you told Filch you were sleepwalking? That was awkward for all of us."

It was as though nothing had changed.

 

* * *

He sat with his quill tip hanging low over the parchment for a long time before he decided not to tell his parents.

They'd only worry.

 

* * *

"Remus, you're friends with Evans," James whispered in History of Magic. Remus nodded, because he guessed that yeah, they were. "You wouldn't happen to know what she'd like for Valentine's Day, would you?"

He tried to think back to see if she'd mentioned anything in passing during the long afternoons they'd spent studying together in the library, but came up empty. "Sorry," he said sympathetically, and James sighed disheartedly.

"Get her some chocolate," Peter suggested a little too loudly. "Girls like that."

James considered his suggestion thoughtfully. "Girls  _do_ like chocolate. You're right – you – you might be on to something there, Peter, my pal."

"I have a suggestion," hissed Lily, who was sitting behind them, "why don't you just quit bothering me? That'd be a better gift than plain old chocolate."

James spun in his seat to face her quicker than Remus had thought was humanly possible. Remus flushed – he hadn't realised she was within earshot – and Sirius looked as though he wanted to bury himself six feet under the ground to escape the awkwardness of the situation. Peter was still murmuring about chocolate, listing all the varieties he knew of.

"Evans," James said, voice swimming with thick charm, "how would you like to be my Valentine's date? We could go for a walk around the lake-"

"It's still January! It's not even Valentine's Day yet!" she hissed irritably. "And besides," she added, raising her chin stubbornly, "there's no way I'd date such a bully." She sniffed and looked away from him.

"Aw, Evans," James whined pathetically, "it's only Snivellus. He doesn't even count. And besides, it's not bullying if he deserves it."

"He  _doesn't_  deserve it," Lily snarled, and her bright green eyes flashed back to him, full of silent rage. " _No one_  deserves that."

James scowled petulantly. "Snivellus does. He's the exception." After a brief moment he added, "He's the exception to most things, actually. I thought there was a limit to how badly a person can smell, but then there's Snivellus, always the exception, stinking of undiluted faeces and wet dog at all times."

Lily's eyes were stone cold. "Don't talk to me again, please," she said, and she stared icily at him until he turned back to face the front of the class.

Remus grimaced at her, a look of guilt on his face, and she rolled her eyes exasperatedly and shrugged.

"Cheer up, mate," Sirius whispered to James. "Don't give up."

"I can't believe her," James breathed, looking flushed. "Standing up for Snivellus like that... Doesn't she have any sense of smell? He's _putrid_ , Sirius. You've smelled him... you know I'm right."

"Honeslty," Remus heard Lily huff to one of her friends, "he's just an immature little boy."

Remus hated to admit it, but she had a point.

 

* * *

For the first time, Remus didn't lie to his friends about where he was going.

"Full moon's tomorrow," he murmured when they were lying in their beds, the lot of them just nearing sleep. He hoped they were already past hearing him. He hoped his words would go unheard. "I'll be gone for the night. Maybe two."

He hadn't volunteered any information about his condition before and it felt odd to bring it up unprompted.

There was the rustle of blankets and Sirius rolled over to face Remus through the dark. "Two nights?" he asked.

"Sometimes I stay in the hospital wing," Remus answered, "if I don't feel up to being here. If I'm too tired."

"Does it hurt?" Peter asked quietly, sounding deeply sympathetic.

"Yes," he whispered. "It hurts very much."

"I'm sorry," Peter said.

"Don't be," he replied in a thick voice, "it's not your fault."

"True," said James, "but it's not yours, either."

 

* * *

"My friends found out," Remus told Madam Pomfrey the following night on their walk down to the Whomping Willow.

She stopped in her tracks and it took Remus a moment to realise. He went back to her.

"It's okay," he said earnestly, a little worried that he'd made a mistake in telling her, "they're not upset with me or anything."  _There's no need to tell Dumbledore_ , he wanted to add.

Madam Pomfrey made a little squeaking sound and cried, "Of course they're not, Remus! How in Merlin's name could they be?"

He stared at her in surprise. Was she actually  _crying?_

"Uh," he said awkwardly, "Madam Pomfrey? Are you – are you okay?"

"Yes!" she croaked, covering her face with her hands now. "I'm fine!"

They kept walking, silently now, until she stopped again.

"Remus, I need to tell you this and I need you to listen to me," she said in a trembling breath. "You are a marvellous boy, and your – your illness doesn't change that. You're more than the disease."

He blinked stupidly at her. He didn't understand. "Okay," he said. "Um. Thanks?"

Her lip quivered and tears welled at her eyes again. She reached out and patted both of his cheeks. "You're welcome," she told him.

 

* * *

The next afternoon he spent curled up in bed in the hospital wing. He'd managed to break his leg throughout the night and he felt more battered than he usually did. Madam Pomfrey had given him a numbing potion, a hearty glass of Skele-Gro, and had told him to rest.

He dreamed of the Shrieking Shack. In his dream it was a cage and he was trapped inside it, an animal in an exhibit. People walked past the boarded windows and peered through the planks, wriggling their fingers in the holes and whistling at him, calling him, trying to get his attention.

"Stop it," he told them, panic thundering in his chest, "it's nearly the full moon! You need to get out of here, idiots!"

They only poked their fingers further through, wriggling them, twisting them, like worms through dirt and flowers sprouting in earth.

He woke to find Sirius at his bedside, a look of utter boredom on his face as he stared aimlessly around the room. He was sitting in the armchair that had always been empty when Remus was there.

"Sirius?" he murmured, blinking and pulling himself up a little, feeling only a slight shift of pain throughout his leg. Sirius's eyes snapped to him and he grinned, all traces of his boredom gone.

"Good morning, sleeping beauty!" he sang. "Or should I say good evening? It's nearly eight. Regardless, you've been asleep for hours." He beamed at him.

Not for the first time, Remus was amazed at Sirius's seemingly endless supply of energy.

Remus took a deep breath and let it flow through him. He took a mental register of his aches and pains. The bones in his leg seemed to have healed already, and his shoulder, which he'd battered throughout the night, was just a dull hurt.

"Do you want me to get Madam Pomfrey?" Sirius asked suddenly, getting up from his chair and starting towards her office with eyes still on Remus, waiting for his permission.

"No," Remus gasped, stopping him, "no, I'm fine. There's nothing else she can do for me right now, anyway. And she's probably busy." He knew she liked to do crossword puzzles in the evenings. He'd helped with a few.

Sirius looked upset at that, but nodded and returned to his seat. "So," he said in a draughty exhale, "this is where you like to hang out." He looked around at the pale walls and the empty beds and nodded contemplatively.

Remus managed a weak smile. "This is where I like to hang out."

"Bit dull, isn't it," Sirius sighed, leaning back into his chair and settling in. He looked bizarrely out of place in the stark hospital wing, and yet by Remus's side he looked perfectly at home.

"It's alright," Remus told him with a faint shrug that sent faint sparks of pain down his spine. "Usually a bit quieter, though." He pretended to scowl at his friend.

"I'd be a bad friend if I let you have any peace and quiet, Remus," Sirius told him cheerily. "It's my job to provide chaos in your life. Keep you entertained."

"You're good at your job," he said.

"I do try."

"It shows."

"Good. I was worried my work was going unnoticed."

Remus laughed weakly, too tired for much else. "Never," he murmured.

 

* * *

"Here I am worrying about Valentine's Day," James groaned, ruffling his hair neurotically, "when Evan's birthday is on Sunday and I didn't even know!" He glanced frostily at Remus. "Good job at keeping me informed, Remus. You're a  _great_  spy."

"Firstly, I didn't even know it was her birthday on Sunday until today," Remus told him, "and secondly, I wasn't aware I was spying on anyone, thank you very much."

"Of course you're spying! You're my undercover agent!"

Remus stared at him.

Sirius slung an arm over Remus's shoulders and said, "What James is trying to say here, Remus, is that he'd appreciate it if you passed on anything you find out from Evans. You know... birthdays, hobbies, likes and dislikes, the usual."

Remus twisted his neck to stare at Sirius. He dropped his arm immediately.

"Why don't you get her flowers?" Peter suggested, sounding hopeful. "My dad always gets mum flowers for her birthday."

"Flowers?" James repeated, and he looked at Remus for his reaction. "Remus? Flowers? How does Evans feel about flowers?"

"I don't know," Remus grumbled dismissively, "we don't talk about flowers."

"No," James said, "but you  _do_  talk. And that's more than any of us have managed." He clasped his hands under his chin and said, desperate and pleading, "Please, Remus, you're my only hope."

Remus's lips tightened into a thin line, but he groaned and nodded. He was useless against James when he got an idea in his head. The boy was a force of nature.

"Fine," he said unhappily, "I'll ask her some questions and try to find out what she might like, but I'm only doing it because I'd prefer she get something she wants, rather than a singing teapot." He looked at James, who wilted a little under his gaze. The teapot had been one of his more disappointing gift ideas.

"You're a life saver, Remus," James told him gratefully.

"She'll probably tell me to stick it," Remus warned him, "and I'm not going to push the subject if she doesn't want to talk about it."

James still looked blissfully relieved, as though all of his problems were solved already. "Thank you, Remus. You're a true friend."

Remus just sighed.

 

* * *

When Remus went to the library later that day Lily was already there, sitting alone at their usual table. Her books were scattered around her and she'd tied her hair back in a bun that stayed pinned with her wand. She looked up in surprise when he sat down beside her.

"So," Remus said, his voice bright and false even to his own ears, "I hear it's your birthday on Sunday."

Her eyes narrowed into slits immediately. The green burned icy and fierce.

He didn't give up. "I... I was wondering-"

" _James_  was wondering," she corrected him.

"Well, yeah," he sighed, and at her narrowing scowl he was quick to beg, "Lily,  _please_  just tell me what you want so he can give it to you. He's driving me barmy."

"He has nothing I want," Lily sniffed contemptuously, "he's a bullying git, and I refuse to acknowledge his existence."

"You don't need to acknowledge his existence," he told her, trying to sound persuasive. "It's a win-win situation for you! You get a gift and you get to ignore him. Isn't that – isn't that good?"

She shook her head, her red hair trembling atop her head. "He's a bully. I don't want gifts from bullies."

"Sure, he's a little rough on Severus, but it's not as though Severus goes easy on him, either," Remus told her desperately. "He's made death threats more than once."

She glared at him. "It's always four against one, Remus. Severus never stands a chance."

"Four?" Remus gasped, feeling wronged. "I never do anything!"

"But you never stop it, either!" she hissed venomously, her eyes flashing. He winced. He'd stepped on a landmine, it seemed. "You let them steal his things and call him names and ruin his clothes and curse him!"

Remus's face burned with embarrassment. He wanted to explain to her that it was different, that he couldn't exactly tell them to stop because what if that was what it took for them to wake up and realise that they didn't like Remus, never had, and he was just a kill joy? He couldn't.

"Exactly," Lily snapped when he said nothing. She abruptly grabbed her things and stood up.

He watched her go, a sick feeling settling in his stomach as she did.

 

* * *

James ended up going with Peter's idea of flowers. On the morning of Lily's birthday the common room was overflowing with red roses. The scent was almost overpowering, so much so that several people burst into sneezing fits upon leaving their dorms.

"And you didn't even  _consider_ lilies?" Sirius asked James exasperatedly when Lily showed no interest in the roses and walked across the common room and out of the portrait hole without a second glance.

"Peter said roses!" James wailed.

"Mum likes roses," Peter grumbled, folding his arms defensively, "how was I supposed to know that Evans doesn't?"

A cat sat chewing one of the roses by the fireplace, seemingly the only one to find them entertaining.

"Shoo!" James hissed, waving his arms at it. "That's not for you! Drop it!"

Sirius sighed and shook his head. "Mental, that one," he said in a low whisper.

Remus privately agreed.

 

* * *

Remus gave her a new set of quills for her birthday because she was always complaining about how old hers were. It wasn't an expensive gift, but it was useful. Remus had always preferred that kind.

"Thanks," she said when he handed them to her in the library. From the set of her mouth he knew she was still angry with him.

"I'm sorry," he told her. "I just." The words caught in his throat. "They're my friends, y'know?"

She looked at him sadly. "I know," she said.

After that they were okay.

 

* * *

Dumbledore called him to his office one Saturday morning and Remus was sure he was going to be expelled.

He walked slowly through the halls, dragging his feet to the best of his abilities, and wondered what he'd done that warranted a trip to the Headmaster's office. He could only think of one thing.

_What if someone had found out?_

His friends swore they wouldn't tell a soul, swore they didn't care. Remus had asked them over and over again, begging them for the truth.  _Do you mind? Do you care? Are you sure? Are you certain?_

He'd only stopped when Sirius finally grew tired of the questions and had grabbed Remus by the shoulders and gave him a violent shake.

"Remus," he'd said, "I will murder you myself if you don't stop asking us that. We don't care. We like you regardless of what happens to you on the full moon. I thought I made this clear when I made the mermaid reference."

Remus had blinked at him, stunned beyond his ability to speak, and had nodded his head. After that he'd taken them at their word when they said they didn't care what he was.

But what if they'd lied?

The thought came to Remus slowly. It danced around the corners of his mind before he finally dared to think it.

What if his friends weren't okay with his illness? What if they were too scared to say so? What if they'd gone to Dumbledore, scared for their safety, and demanded he do something about him?

" _He's a danger, sir,"_  he could hear James saying.  _"He always has his meat so rare..."_

He shook his head against his thoughts, refused to believe them. No. His friends didn't care about it. They were his friends. Sirius had said he wouldn't care even if he was a mermaid. That had to count for something.

When he reached Dumbledore's office he was shaking like a leaf.

"It's been too long, Remus," Dumbledore said cheerfully from behind his desk, "please sit down, and let us talk."

He sat in the chair opposite Dumbledore's desk, his legs numb and his heart racing. If this was how Dumbledore expelled people, by lulling them into a false sense of cheerful security before springing the bad news upon them, Remus thought the man mightn't just be crazy, but evil, too.

"You look worried," Dumbledore said with a sympathetic sigh. "I expect you think I've brought you here for some terrible reason. Expulsion?" he guessed.

Remus was beyond the ability to speak, so he merely nodded.

"You need not worry, then. Your position is safe at this school." He smiled warmly at him, then said, "Sherbert lemon?"

"No thank you," Remus croaked. The man was insane. Definitely insane.

"They're quite good," Dumbledore said, helping himself to one. "I opened them just this morning. Fresh."

So insane.

"I've already had breakfast," Remus told him, feeling returning to his body, "I'm not hungry."

Dumbledore nodded as though he understood completely, as though he often wished he could have a sherbet lemon, only he was just a little too full.

"But, uh, sir? Why am I here?" he asked timidly. "It's just, I can't think of why."

"I called you here this morning because, as I take it, your friends have discovered the truth about your monthly absences," Dumbledore said serenely.

_Oh Merlin they went to Dumbledore they weren't okay with it they weren't fine they didn't accept it they're scared oh Merlin they went to Dumbledore the Headmaster they wanted him gone –_

"I've never seen such a horrified expression in response to such a casual remark, my dear boy!" Dumbledore guffawed. "Don't be so alarmed! There's nothing wrong! I only called you here because I wanted to make sure that you're alright with the way things have gone."

"A-alright?" Remus stammered. "Way things have gone?" It seemed as though his speech had been diminished so that he was only capable of repeating others.

"Am I correct in thinking that Sirius Black, James Potter, and Peter Pettigrew are aware of your lycanthropy?"

Remus nodded.

"Did they discover it on their own? Or did you tell them?"

"They figured it out," Remus told him shakily. "They – they didn't believe my excuses."

"That tends to happen over time," Dumbledore sighed. "Friends are often too observant, aren't they?" He chuckled and took another sweet.

Remus began to relax. He wasn't about to be expelled. He wasn't even in trouble. Dumbledore was just... checking up on him. Making sure he was alright.

"Sir, if you don't mind my asking, how did you know my friends found out?" Remus asked him carefully. "Did – did Madam Pomfrey tell you?"

"No, no," Dumbledore said, shaking his grey head, "Madam Pomfrey would never betray your trust like that. She's quite fond of you. No, I came to this conclusion after seeing your friend Sirius Black sneaking through the halls past curfew one evening, fleeing the hospital wing. I only put two and two together."

"Ah," Remus said, nodding slowly. It made sense.

"Remus, if you would allow me to make a confession?" Dumbledore asked suddenly, and Remus was surprised. What confession could Dumbledore possibly have to make that concerned Remus?

"Sure," he said nervously, "go ahead – I mean, if you want to. If you don't want to tell me I – I don't mind. No pressure. Sorry. Go ahead."

"I hope you'll forgive my bluntness, but when I met you for the first time your attitude took me by surprise. You were mature beyond your years – you still are." He smiled fondly at Remus. "However, I worried about how you would fit in at Hogwarts. Your talk of separating yourself from others to spare them from pain caused me distress; I worried you would isolate yourself from your housemates. I worried you'd be alone."

"I would have," Remus told him suddenly, interrupting him before he could continue. "I was going to. I wasn't going to make friends. But they just..." He licked his dry lips and tried to think of how to explain it.

Dumbledore was smiling again. "They just happened."

"Yes."

"It's surprising how many friendships start that way," Dumbledore sighed, his voice warm and his eyes bright and cheerful. He looked at Remus and added, soft and sincere, "I'm glad you're not alone, Remus."

Remus was, too.


	5. Chapter 5

Remus had always had bad luck.

The summer before his third year at Hogwarts, he woke up unable to see. His eyes were glued shut with dried blood, and the coppery scent of it was all he could smell. Its presence was overwhelming. It was in his mouth, sour and strong on the back of his tongue. It was thick down his throat. It burned his nostrils. It flaked under his fingertips as he scratched at his raw skin.

Feeling bizarrely calm, he trailed his fingers hesitantly across his skin, drawing them slowly towards his face, edging closer to where he knew the pain waited. His fingertips met ragged cuts, hot and damp with blood, which ran in thick lines across his face. He gently inspected the damage, and when his fingers met sensitive flesh he hissed and jerked away from his own touch.

"Shit," he slurred, and his voice was low and sluggish and sounded foreign to his own ears. He felt detached, lost, separate from himself. "Shit, shit, shit, buggery, shit."

He heard his parents unlock the cellar door and he waited patiently in the dark, his face throbbing and his breathing growing more and more rapid. He heard their shoes against the steps, heard them getting closer and closer, and then his mother's screams were all he knew.

* * *

Remus supposed that if Madam Pomfrey had been there she'd have been able to prevent the scarring.

* * *

He'd been to St. Mungo's before, but not in a very long time. He had vague memories, hazy like half-forgotten dreams, of stern-faced Healers, of sterile smells, of crying, and of hard mattresses. It seemed that not much had changed.

His mother cried the entire time in the chair by his bed and his father rarely set foot in the room except to ask if the Healer had been in to see him yet.

"My boy's got slashes running down his face!" Remus heard his father shout in the hall when he was supposed to be sleeping. There was frantic fury in his booming voice. "I want to talk to the head honcho! I want to see some Healing being done! Fix him! Doesn't he have it bad enough already?  _Fix him_ , for Merlin's sake! You're Healers, this is what you  _do!_ "

Remus flinched back into his pillow and struggled to calm down. He pressed his hands over his ears to drown out his father's shouts until his voice was just a wordless ringing, and he tried to think of what the books Madam Pomfrey had given him said about relaxation. He cursed himself for not reading them properly, for not giving them a real try. Maybe if he'd read them, studied the techniques, managed to soothe his inner beast, so to speak, he wouldn't have hurt himself so badly. Maybe if he'd read them he wouldn't have ended up in a hospital bed listening to his father shout at Healers.

"There's not much we can do," the Healer said later that day in her politely detached way, talking only to his parents, staring right over him as though he didn't exist. Remus sat in bed between them, going unnoticed, feeling just like a child again, like he was nothing. "There will be permanent scarring."

His mother fainted and was taken away and she didn't return; Remus was amazed she'd lasted so long out of the house. His father brought him books while he was asleep and he woke to them by his bed. He was reading one when Sirius and James visited him.

Remus didn't look at them. He gave them time to take in his injuries in private without having to worry about him seeing the shock on their faces.

"Remus," Sirius said quietly. He was beside him instantly, dropping into the chair his mother had sobbed in for the past three days. He scooted it closer to the bed, getting so close Remus wanted to flinch away.

"Peter's in Norway with his parents," James told him, sitting on the bottom of the bed by Remus's feet, and the mattress squeaked under his added weight. "I owled him, but..." He shrugged disappointedly.

Remus now looked properly at them both. They were taller, James especially. Sirius had grown his hair out so that it almost reached his shoulders – it was long enough for him to tuck it behind his ears and for it to fall irritatingly in front of his eyes. It hung thick and wavy, and Remus thought it suited him.

They both looked  _good_.

"What are you reading?" asked Sirius, reaching over to take the book from him. He was careful not to lose Remus's page. He scanned the back cover.

"It's about a group of marauders," Remus told him. His voice cracked from disuse and both his friends flinched – did they think it was from crying? "They're basically pirates. It's good. They all have nicknames for each other, and they hunt for treasure." He struggled to sit up against his pillows and then said, "They remind me of us, a bit. Always on adventures, doing stupid stuff... It's like us only with nicknames."

Sirius grinned at him and gently placed the book back on his lap, open to the page he'd been at. "We are a bit like roguish pirates, aren't we?" he said cheerily, bringing warmth into the room.

"Dashingly handsome pirates," James added with a laugh. And then he went stiff and silent and glanced awkwardly at Remus, waiting for something.

Belatedly Remus realised what was wrong. What James's silence meant.

Remus wasn't handsome any more. He'd been just barely average before, but now... now, with his scars...

Detachedly, as though watching himself from a very far distance, he was aware of his shoulders slumping and a small, wrecked sound escaping his lips. His heart picked up in pace and his mouth went dry.

"Balls," James whispered with dismay. He looked to Sirius for help, then back at Remus with panic in his eyes. "Remus, I – I didn't-"

"Hey," Sirius murmured soothingly, reaching out and placing his hand on Remus's arm, his fingers hot and gentle as they curled against around the thin skin of his wrist, "don't be upset. Scars are very manly. I bet your marauder book is full of guys with manly scars – I bet they have the women swooning."

James joined in eagerly, sensing an opportunity to correct his mistake. "Yeah!" he cheered. "Girls love guys with battle scars!"

"You'll charm Evans away from James without even trying," Sirius teased, smirking. "She'll take one look at you and she'll be asking you to marry her. She'll beg you to make a woman out of her right there in the library."

"Don't joke about Evans, Sirius," James growled, eyes narrowed behind his round glasses. "Evans is  _sacred_. Evans is a no-go-zone."

Sirius ignored him. He looked at Remus, his eyes that light grey that was so nearly blue, so nearly green. He smiled a little, just a quirk of his lips, and his fingers shifted pleasantly against Remus's skin.

"You look great," Sirius told him solemnly, and Remus didn't care if it was a lie.

* * *

"Everyone's staring at me," Remus whispered, his neck and cheeks burning hot with embarrassment in response to those who stared longingly after him, desperate to see the damage he'd done to himself over the break.

"Everyone's rude, that's why," James told him loudly, glaring at the people who were peering out of their carriages to catch a glimpse of them as they went by. "Ignore them," he added in a quiet voice just for Remus. "They're being idiots."

"Idiots or not, it's discomforting," Remus grumbled.

They were walking single-file through the Hogwarts Express looking for an empty carriage, but most were already overflowing. Remus wanted nothing more than to find a carriage, to get inside, and to then draw the curtain so he could relax without worrying about people gawking at his deformities.

He'd (foolishly, he realised now) hoped that people wouldn't notice his scars. He'd hoped they'd go unnoticed when there were growth spurts to compare and new hairstyles to discuss. It appeared his hopes had been in vain. Every person they passed seemed to stare holes through him, seemed to beg him with their eyes for the story of how the scars came to be, all raised and puckered and devastating against the smoothness of his face. It was already tiring him.

"Hey, here's one," Sirius announced with relief, and then pulled open the door to an empty carriage. The four of them spilled inside, eager to escape the chaos. James shut the blinds after them so that no one could continue to stare, and Remus murmured his thanks.

Remus hauled his trunk into the overhead luggage space and then sat down by the window with an exhausted grunt. The train was flying through the empty countryside, trees and hills sliding past as they sped towards the school.

"I'm already regretting this," he said bitterly, eyes glazed as he looked out the window. "I should've just stayed at home. Who needs an education anyway? I could always just get a job as a postman." He folded his arms over his chest and slumped down in his seat. He fought the urge to press his hand over his face to cover the scarring.

"It'll be okay," Peter told him comfortingly as he put his own trunk into the luggage compartment. "They're just curious, that's all."

"Peter's right," Sirius said, sounding a little amazed at the prospect. He sat down opposite Remus and kicked his feet up to put them beside him on the seat, allowing his shoe to rest against Remus's thigh. "Things will calm down soon enough, and then people won't even care. It's just that it's something new. You're the hot new thing. A shiny new toy. You get what I mean."

Remus scowled. "They're scars, not – not  _dragons_  or something."

"For all they know they're scars  _from_  a dragon," James pointed out, rummaging through his pocket for his money. "Hey, do you think the trolley will come past soon? I hope we haven't missed her. I really want to buy something, I'm starved."

The year was already off to a dreadful start.

* * *

He went to see Madam Pomfrey on the first day back, just for something to do. His friends had other commitments – detentions, amazingly – and the last thing he wanted to do was wait around in the common room for them where people were constantly staring at him and asking him about his break, eager for some kind of story.

When Madam Pomfrey saw him, her face stilled and froze in an expression of utter dismay. She rushed forth to meet him in the doorway to the hospital wing and unthinkingly reached for his face. He flinched, but only a little.

"If I'd only been there," she breathed as she touched his face; her fingers – usually so rough – were gentle and feather-soft as they inspected the scars. She trailed a hesitant fingertip across one of the three long, crude gashes that now ran across his face, and he shuddered.

"It's nothing," he told her dismissively, batting her hand away before she could upset him, "there's no use in thinking about what might have been. What's done is done." His Healer had given him brochures that had told him just as much, complete with glossy text and smiling disfigured children who waved at him from the photos, their scarred faces disturbingly cheery.

"You've been washing them with essence of dittany?" she asked, searching his eyes for the truth. She'd always had a keen ability to spot a lie.

"Yes," he groaned, rolling his eyes to avoid looking at her. "I'm not a  _total_  idiot."

"Never said you were," she sighed, and then she frowned petulantly as a dark cloud of unrest settled on her brow. "You don't deserve this," she told him sincerely, her voice suddenly far more earnest than Remus was comfortable with. "You're a wonderful boy."

He shrugged awkwardly. "Nothing to be done," he said, firmer now. Thinking about those kinds of things tended to upset him. There was no use questioning things that had already happened, not when there was nothing to be done about it.

She looked at him for a long time, taking in his shorter hair and his new inch of height. His thin robes, his too-small shoes. Taking in the new additions to his face.

"Come on," she mumbled, starting towards her office, "I have biscuits. Come and tell me what you've been up to."

As he sat in Madam Pomfrey's office sharing shortbread biscuits and drinking honey tea, he told her about the books he'd read at St. Mungo's, about the Healers who weren't at all like her and all the worse because of it, and of his friends visiting him.

"I've heard rumours about those two," she said slyly, smirking a little. "Everyone says they're incredibly bright, but also incredibly cheeky." She looked at him, awaiting clarification.

Remus grinned. "You could say that," he said. They were the smartest in their year, yes, but also the most unruly. They received detentions just as often as they received good grades, which was very frequently.

"It was sweet of them to visit you," she said with a warm smile. She tapped her teacup with her wand and heated her tea so that fresh steam curled upwards. "Most people avoid St. Mungo's. It's a sad place, and it's not exactly homely, what with all that white and grey... But go on – tell me more."

Remus did, and it wasn't until he was on his way back to the common room, his pockets weighed down with biscuits, that he wondered when the school nurse had become one of his closest confidants.

* * *

Now that they were in their third year they were allowed to visit Hogsmeade on designated weekends. Remus had been looking forward to seeing the village for the first time, but now that people seemed to watch him wherever he went, the thought of being out in public made him feel queasy. He had no desire to be stared at like some kind of freak, and when he stayed in the dormitory that tended not to happen. At least most of the Gryffindors were used to the scars now – or at least they'd learned to hide their curiosity from him.

Remus's parents had hesitated before signing the Hogsmeade permission slip, and Remus had watched as his mother's eyes flickered sadly as all the dangerous possibilities turned over in her mind. When his father signed the slip, his signature loopy and thin like Remus's own, he felt relief settle in his stomach. The following weekend he'd mauled himself in the cellar and after that Hogsmeade hadn't seemed like such a good idea.

Sirius's parents had flat out refused to sign his form due to a fit of rebellion from him which had ended in the family house-elf being painted Gryffindor red and gold. Not to be excluded from the fun, however, Sirius had come up with a plan.

"I'll borrow your cloak, James, and I'll go through the one-eyed witch statue," he said simply, grinning with a smugness that looked right at home on his pale face. "A galleon says I make it to Honeydukes before you lot do. I'm  _that_ good."

James laughed and went to find his cloak, leaving the three of them waiting in the common room by the fireplace. Peter was counting his money and chattering about the things he needed to buy; he'd burned a hole through the bottom of his cauldron in Potions the previous day and desperately needed a new one. Slughorn had threatened a week of detentions if he didn't replace it before their next lesson, and he'd also demanded to know how he'd managed to break something so sturdy with a simple second year potion. Sirius had remarked that it was likely a world record, and that they ought to contact some kind of official on the matter.

Across the room from them two fifth year girls were sitting with their heads together as they whispered, their eyes fixed on Remus. He felt a hot blush rising across his cheekbones and he quickly looked away from them.

He wondered what people were saying about him. How did they think he got those scars? Had anyone pieced it together yet? Had anyone noticed his monthly absences and figured him out?

"Remus," Sirius murmured imploringly, startling Remus, who hadn't realised Sirius was watching him, "don't let them upset you."

He raised a hand to scratch at his eyebrow, and if that hid his face from view, then that was entirely accidental.

James returned with his cloak folded over his arm and handed it proudly to Sirius. "Treat it well," he said, "or I'll be forced to shave your head in your sleep."

Sirius's eyes narrowed. "You wouldn't dare."

"This is the cloak we're talking about here," James reminded him.

Sirius paused, then nodded with acceptance. "Yep. You're right. Fair's fair."

James started eagerly for the portrait hole. "C'mon, gents. Hogsmeade awaits us!"

Remus stood and was about to follow him when Marlene McKinnon, a friend of Lily's, walked past with a girl he didn't know and whispered to her, " _I heard he was mauled by a werewolf while on vacation in Norway..._ "

A shudder passed through him and left him trembling. He felt shockingly empty, like his bones had hollowed and he was suddenly too weak to hold himself up, let alone make the journey down to Hogsmeade.

"Wait," he croaked after his friends, who immediately paused and stared at him, James with a degree of impatience dancing at the line of his mouth. "Wait – hang on." He took a deep breath and pressed a hand against his face, feeling his temperature, but not really. He could differentiate between the puckered scar tissue and his smooth unblemished skin with his fingers. "I don't – I'm not feeling well."

James's expression fell and he asked, quiet and restrained, his tone serious, "Do you need to go to Madam Pomfrey? Is this – is this to do with – y'know?"

Having found an escape, he nodded enthusiastically. "Yeah. Yeah, it's. Yeah. I think – I mean, I should, yeah. She'll know what to do." He smiled shakily, his hand still pressed to his face. "I'll just – I'll be off, then."

He dodged around them and reached for the portrait hole. He was halfway through it when he felt someone's hand on his back, helping him through.

"I'll stay with you," said Sirius. "I don't need to go to Hogsmeade anyway. I've already got enough useless junk to last me two lifetimes. Three, if I pace myself. But I'm not one for pacing, so my stuff'll have to last me for two. One and a half, maybe."

They were outside the common room then, the portrait swinging shut behind them, shutting James and Petter from view. Remus stopped to stare at his friend, who beamed back at him innocently.

"You don't have to," he told him awkwardly. "I'll be fine. Madam Pomfrey's great company."

Sirius snorted and said brightly, a teasing lift to his voice, "Madam Pomfrey is a middle aged woman. Don't tell me you'd rather spend time with her than me?"

Remus gazed at him, searching his expression for some hidden clue. Sirius was so hard to decipher sometimes. It was like he was speaking a different language, one that Remus had never learnt. He was a puzzle that Remus couldn't solve.

"Why are you doing this?" he asked, and he could hear the strangled hesitation in his voice, the suffocating doubt and uncertainty. "You've been excited about sneaking out to Hogsmeade all week."

"True," Sirius said agreeably, starting in the direction of the hospital wing with long graceful strides, "but I'm not about to leave you here alone, and besides, I'm not even supposed to be going to Hogsmeade in the first place." He looked back at Remus, a smile lingering on his face. He saw Remus's doubtful expression and sighed, sensing more persuasion was necessary. "You're my friend, Remus," he said, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world, "and I'm not leaving my friend alone."

Remus nodded jerkily, unable to speak, and started walking with him.

It wasn't until they were outside the hospital wing that he finally spilled.

"Okay, uh, here's the thing," he said, swinging around to face Sirius who was smirking infuriatingly. "I'm not – I'm not really feeling sick? I mean, I think I – I've gotten much better on the way here, obviously."

Sirius nodded as though this was all very understandable. "Oh, yes," he said, "miraculous healing properties these corridors have."

"Yes! Yes – that's – that's it exactly. It's a very old building, very strong magic and – and there's lots of healing, a lot of it, so it makes – things get stronger, y'know? Magic does that. So I'm much – much better now." He gave Sirius two thumbs up. "So we don't have to go in there and bother Madam Pomfrey. We can just-"

"Go back to Gryffindor?" Sirius suggested.

"Precisely."

Sirius grinned. "Good thinking."

"It's just a good thing I feel better," Remus said, feeling faint from rambling so consistently.

Sirius smirked at him, but didn't say a word. Remus was grateful.

* * *

"I'm not about to make a big deal of it," Lily said immediately when Remus met her for their first study session of the year, tense with the thought that she might ask about his scars, "so you might as well stop chewing your nails off and just sit down. Do you want to work on the Transfiguration essay, or the Potions essay?"

He physically sank with relief, the tension in his shoulders fading away, and he said with a painfully broad smile, "Let's start with Transfiguration."

* * *

"I don't know why anyone would spend so much time on something like this," Remus said that night when they were in the common room by the fire and he was reading over his Transfiguration notes, trying to think of what else to add to his Animagus essay. "I mean, they say the process takes years, and some people actually  _die_ attempting to do it for the first time. Who would want that? Who'd want to risk that kind of thing? Just to be a – a cat or a lizard or something. People should just be content to be people. It's easier that way. A lot less messing about."

Sirius snorted and said, "Hey, not everyone wants to be a smelly old cat. Who knows, some people might want to be able to turn into a shark. I wouldn't mind being a shark." He made a thoughtful sound as he considered it.

"Some very stupid people wouldn't mind that, perhaps," James agreed with a grin. "Would you need to be in the water when you were in your shark form? Would you – drown, or whatever? Suffocate? Or whatever fishes do?"

"I don't know," Sirius grumbled, "I'm no shark expert. Eugh, why do you have to go and point out all the flaws in my plans, James? What do you have against fun? Did fun abuse you as a child? Did it lock you in the cupboard and beat you with saucepans?"

James settled back into his armchair, folding his arms over his torso and letting his eyes shut. "I have nothing against fun, but I have many things against you plotting to become a shark."

"You're such a meanie," Sirius huffed.

Earlier in the week Professor McGonagall had demonstrated her ability to transform into a cat as part of their lesson on Animagi. Everyone had been silently amazed, and the lesson was a hit that was discussed that night at dinner, with everyone enthusing about how great it would be to be able to transform into a cat at will.

Remus, however, wasn't as thrilled with the lesson as his classmates were. He couldn't quite shake the nagging feeling that watching her fluidly transform from a cat into a human had brought about.

She'd done it so easily. One second she'd been a cat, a simple grey tabby, and then she was standing before them as she always did, prim and proper and straight-backed, her glasses sitting evenly on her nose. She hadn't uttered a single sound of pain, nor had any blood been spilt. It looked so  _easy_.

As he stared down at his notes he tried to ignore the feeling, tried to push it down. It was stupid. He was being stupid. It was ridiculous to be jealous of her.

Unknowingly he raised a hand to cover his scars.


	6. Chapter 6

Really, it wasn't all that hard to figure out what his friends were doing behind his back. Despite what they might have thought, they definitely weren't super spies, and they were all terrible liars – James especially.

"I have explosive diarrhoea," he had said one afternoon before calmly strolling from the common room with his book bag, pausing on his way out to send a charming grin in Lily's direction by the fireplace. Remus saw it for the obvious lie that it was, and blinked in astonished bemusement while watching him go.

"That was odd," he said, looking to Sirius for some kind of reassurance that James wasn't in fact going insane like he currently suspected, but Sirius merely pressed a hand to his stomach and adopted a highly dramatised look of queasiness.

"I think I'm going to be ill," he said with a great air of exaggeration, and he staggered to his feet and sprinted for the portrait hole. Remus stared after him and watched as the portrait swung back into place.

"Uh," Peter said awkwardly from where he remained seated beside Remus, and Remus sighed and met his eye.

"It's okay, Pete," he said weakly, "you can go."

"Thanks," Peter said cheerfully, abandoning whatever exit plan he'd thought out beforehand, and he chased excitedly after the other two.

Remus had sat there, confused and uncertain, and had long tried to rationalise what had happened. All three of his friends had just disappeared, all with very poor excuses, too – Peter hadn't had his chance to share his, but Remus doubted it would have been very believable. Peter's excuses rarely were.

For a while after that he worried that something was wrong. His friends were avoiding him for no discernible reason. Their excuses were flimsy, their lies were half-hearted, and they were never present for long. It was worrying, to say the least.

He was just beginning to truly stress in earnest – what if they were avoiding him because they disliked him? What if they'd finally discovered how boring he was and wanted him to go away? – when one evening he was lying on the floor beside his bed, trying to reach his left shoe which was lodged underneath it. His cheek was flat to the hardwood floor and his arm was stretched out as far as it could reach under the bed, and his fingers were just brushing the leather of his shoe, when the dormitory door opened and James walked in and ruined their secret.

"Who'd have thought becoming an Animagus would be such a pain in the arse?" James groaned, sounding exhausted, and Remus yelped in horror and promptly hit his head on his bed frame as he tried to jump to his feet.

"Merlin's pants!" Sirius hissed, and despite the blistering pain in his head, Remus successfully managed to climb to his feet.

" _Animagus?_ " he echoed, eyes wide as he stared at the three of them. Peter was trembling like a frightened rodent cornered by a larger animal, and Sirius looked ready to throw himself over Remus as though he was a grenade that was going to kill everyone. "You're becoming a  _what?_ "

James, through his startled embarrassment, managed to squeak in a very unconvincing attempt at playfulness, "Just joking!"

"Oh no you're  _not!_ " Remus hissed, his eyes as sharp as daggers. "Don't you  _dare_  try to lie your way out of this one, James Potter!" He stared expectantly at his three friends, who all at least had the decency to look ashamed. "Come on!" he insisted, when no one volunteered the truth. "Explain yourselves!"

"We're not-" James began, but Sirius sighed and cut him off, seemingly aware of how little lying would help them now.

"Okay, okay," he groaned with exasperated resignation, "you win. Now, don't freak out or anything, but we're learning how to become Animagi so we can accompany you on each full moon." He looked slightly embarrassed, but otherwise was as bold as brass. Of course he was. This was Sirius Black, after all.

Remus had always considered himself to be a gentle, understanding person with a lot of patience. There were exceptions to that, of course (such as on the full moon, and whenever there was no jam left in the house), but for the most part, he was a very easy-going human being. However, there were some things that even he couldn't handle.

"You're all absolutely insane," he breathed, his voice stunted with horror. "You're batshit, the lot of you." He started for the door, each step slow and carefully considered, like moves on a chessboard. "I don't think you realise what you're doing. You don't know how stupid you're being."

"You're our best mate, Remus," Sirius whined, like it was Remus who was behaving irrationally, like  _he_  was the one being unfair. "Why won't you just let us help you, for once?"

Remus reached the door, and his hand curled smoothly around the knob. He heard it rattle from within his shaking fist. He managed a deep, stabilising breath, and said, "Getting yourselves killed isn't going to help me at all."

By the time he reached the hospital wing (he hadn't intentionally started for it, but had somehow found himself walking the familiar path) he remembered that his left shoe was still lodged under his bed, and he was only in his socks. But that didn't matter.

All he could think about was how  _stupid_ his friends were.

* * *

"Think rationally," Sirius urged, which was completely hypocritical given the absolute lack of rationality he himself possessed.

"You were dropped on your head as an infant," Remus replied.

"Probably," Sirius allowed offhandedly, "but we're not talking about my parents and their questionable parenting techniques right now. Tonight we're talking about you, Remus, my darling."

Remus groaned and rolled over in bed so that his face was flat into his pillow. "Why won't you leave me alone?" he mumbled into it. "Why wasn't I put into Ravenclaw, where everyone's asleep by 7.30 and conversation is limited to discussions about homework and exams?" He turned his head back towards Sirius and grumbled, "No Ravenclaw would think your idea is safe."

"Ravenclaws are wet blankets," Sirius said dismissively, "everyone knows that. Gryffindors are brawny, Slytherins are slimy, Hufflepuffs are babies, and Ravenclaws are boring. That's common knowledge."

"Not that Jextley bloke, though," James interjected from across the room, "he's an alright Ravenclaw. I heard he turned himself into a hamster at a party, once. He had to go to St. Mungo's afterwards, but he's okay."

"Alright, that Jextley bloke's the exception. I bet he'd be okay with turning himself into an Animagus. After all, he fancies himself a hamster, doesn't he?" Sirius sounded pleased.

"Sirius," Remus groaned, tired of the conversation, "I've told you already, it's not the Animagus part I have a problem with. I mean, yeah, I think it's stupid as all hell, but if you want to turn into a lizard at the drop of a hat, sure. Go ahead. Waste years of your life learning how. And if you die in the attempt, like some people do, I'll cry at your funeral and I'll probably hate myself for years afterwards for not preventing your death. But that's life! People die turning into lizards, it happens!" He took a deep breath and then continued, "However, you lot frolicking about with me when I'm - _like that?_  No. Nope. No way. It's not going to happen."

"But  _Remus_ ," Sirius whined miserably, "we want to keep you  _company._ "

"I'm not aware of whether I have company or not when I'm in that condition, Sirius," Remus said, sharp and cool, "I wouldn't even know you're there." Not until he turned back and discovered their ruined corpses and their blood all over his hands, anyway.

"But how do you know?" Sirius persisted. "Have you ever had anyone stay with you?"

Remus wished there were more light in the room so Sirius could see the horrified look on his face.

"No!" he gasped, stricken by the mere suggestion. "Of course not! What part of lycanthropy don't you understand? What part of _life-long-incurable-disease_ doesn't register with you lot? People  _die!_ "

Sirius huffed. "You're just being stubborn," he ground out through clenched teeth.

"This isn't a game," Remus replied, sick to death of Sirius's nonchalant approach to his dangerous condition. "You don't get to convince me that I'm wrong, Sirius. I'm not about to change my mind and get the three of you killed! Or – or  _worse!_ " His breath was ragged and uneven, and it required several deep, trembling breaths before he could continue. "End of story," he managed. "Goodnight."

Miraculously, Sirius didn't argue.

* * *

The full moon came and left Remus lying in the hospital wing, sore and aching. He'd dislocated his shoulder, practically detached it from his torso, to hear Madam Pomfrey tell it, and so she'd prescribed him a dose of bed-rest until the muscles had healed. It was frustrating, being bedridden when there was so much he could otherwise be doing, but loathe as he was to admit it, he needed the brief vacation from his friends.

Sirius had always been stubbornly determined, and that was becoming clearly evident in his refusal to give up on the idea of becoming an Animagus. He pestered Remus constantly about it, regardless of how many times Remus had turned him down, had explained why it wouldn't work, had given him reasons and figures and facts and statistics about why it was the most idiotic idea in the history of mankind. But despite that - despite it all - Sirius kept coming back like a dog with a bone, determined to get Remus to agree. It was annoying, yes, but more than the annoyance it was Sirius's blatant disregard of Remus's opinion that upset him most. Whatever Remus said, it didn't matter. Not to Sirius.

It was quiet in the hospital wing, and for the first time in days he was able to hear himself think without being bombarded by pleas from his friends, who were incredibly persistent with their pestering. It was late afternoon, by Remus's estimation, and he knew Madam Pomfrey would soon be heading downstairs for a late lunch. She always asked him if he wanted anything, a sandwich or a slice of something sweeter, perhaps, but he was rarely hungry. He was too tired to eat.

"I'll be off now, Remus," called Madam Pomfrey from her office, which was just off from the main wing. Her heels clacked against the floor as she locked her door behind her and promptly trotted over to his bedside, twisting a scarf around her neck as she did. "Want anything, dear? I can bring you up a plate."

"No thank you," Remus said, smiling at the familiar exchange. "I'm fine."

She looked at him with concern, taking in his thin appearance and the dark shadows around his eyes, but she nodded with acceptance all the same. "Okay," she said morosely, "if you say so." She checked her wristwatch and said, "I'll be back in twenty. You get some rest."

"Will do," Remus promised, knowing he'd have no difficulty keeping his word.

"Good lad," she said, and she trotted away until the echoes of her heels were all he knew of her.

He must have fallen asleep, because when he opened his eyes next it was to bright sunlight filling the wing. During the night someone had taken one of the spare beds at the other side of the wing, and they were being looked at by Madam Pomfrey, who was muttering angrily about the consequences of too much Firewhiskey. Remus smirked to himself and scratched his scalp, sparing a moment to hesitantly touch his scarred face, just to check as he always did that they were still there.

Madam Pomfrey had yet to finish with the other patient and Remus still had sleep in his eyes when Sirius and Peter entered the wing. Sirius looked lost in thought, probably trying to think of another way to breach the subject of their stupid plan, and Peter simply looked lost.

"Good morning," Remus said when they reached him. Peter smelled sweetly of some kind of syrup, and Remus wondered with an ache if there'd been pancakes for breakfast downstairs. He'd always been fond of them.

"You alright?" Sirius asked lightly, but he looked Remus over with keen eyes, searching him for injuries.

"Dislocated shoulder," Remus murmured with embarrassment, careful to keep his voice low in case the other patient somehow managed to overhear them.

Sirius's eyes widened with worry as he gazed at Remus, focusing on his shoulders, his arms, as though expecting to discover he'd lost the arm entirely.

"It's already fixed," Remus quickly added, "so don't worry. I'm not – not  _crippled_ or anything."

"Good," said Peter with a firm nod, "because you've already got it bad enough."

Remus frowned a little, the statement settling uncomfortably with him. "Yeah," he eventually agreed. He offered Peter a tiny smile, just a little sign of encouragement. Peter always meant well.

Sirius's eyes were cool on Peter, but they warmed when they returned to Remus. "Quidditch try-outs are this morning," he said with a listless sigh, like he could think of nothing more boring. "James wants us there, just to help boost morale, or something. Merlin only knows why, since the bunch is a miserable lot and none of them look fit to catch a cold, let alone a Quaffle."

"They only need to replace a Chaser, though," Remus said with a slight level of uncertainty, recalling back to James's complaining about the loss of the seventh year Chaser who'd graduated and left the team.

Sirius stole an apple from the bowl of fruit Madam Pomfrey had left on Remus's bedside table the day before, and he tossed it easily in one hand as he said, "They don't need any more Chasers, not when they have James."

"James is the best on the team," Peter boasted, his eyes flicking up and down as he watched the apple rise and fall repeatedly.

Remus shrugged unconcernedly. "They'll find someone."

"I bloody hope they find someone quickly," Sirius grumbled, "because I don't fancy sitting in the stands all day watching first years fall off their brooms." He snatched the apple from midair and took a sharp bite from it, the crunch crackling in the subdued hospital air.

"Will you come with us?" Peter asked Remus, his eyes now free from the apple. He bounced eagerly on his feet and whined, "Please, Remus, please come with us."

"Leave him be," Sirius murmured, batting Peter away like he was an overexcited pet, "he's had a big night."

"Not as big as his," Remus muttered, inclining his head towards the groggy patient at the other end of the room, who was still being lectured about the dangers of underage drinking.

Peter pouted with dismay and picked at the cuff of his sleeve morosely. "It's no fun when you're not with us, Remus," he grumbled.

"Maybe if we were with you more often," Sirius began cautiously, his frown hesitant, "you wouldn't be so – so  _banged up_  afterwards."

Remus flinched. "Sirius," he started.

"Remus," he countered. "Haven't you considered that maybe this is the right thing? With us there we could – I don't know! – keep you from injuring yourself!"

"And how would you manage that?" Remus demanded, glancing over at the preoccupied Madam Pomfrey and her patient. "Who knows what you'd end up as. Say you turn into a snake – what's a snake going to do? Will you – will you crawl up my leg and bite me? Try to distract me from myself? Get  _trampled_ in the process?" He shook his head wildly, trying to rid himself of the thoughts. "No. No way, Sirius. I've already told you a thousand times. It's not an option."

Sirius's leaned in closer, buzzing with fervour. "But it  _is_ an option! Don't you see? With us there we could help prevent this!" He waved a hand at the hospital wing, at Remus's arm. "We could  _help you_."

"I've told you already," Remus whispered, his heart racing painfully, "in no way would you all getting hurt – you all  _dying_  – help me." He looked from Sirius to Peter and back again, then said around a horribly large lump in his throat, "In fact… it'd probably ruin me. I couldn't deal with you dying, let alone dying because of something I'd done." He swallowed thickly. "I can't let that happen."

Sirius stared at him for a long time, silent as he took in what Remus had said. Remus returned his gaze, and felt extremely uncomfortable as he did. Sirius's eyes were steely grey, the colour of cool skies before thunderstorms, and when they weren't warm with laughter and spirit they were pointed and sharp, able to see through anything, spot anything, see anyone. They were like blades, sometimes - capable of cutting right to Remus's core.

"I don't like seeing you like this," Sirius said after an eternity, and Remus blinked. "You shouldn't be here – laid up in bed, taking these potions." He looked disgustedly at hospital bed as though it was to blame for all their problems. "You shouldn't have to do this," he ground out, like a curse.

Remus's chest ached. He'd had his moments of self pity, days where he wished he'd never been born, or that his affliction had been given to someone –  _anyone_  – else. He'd spent long hours wondering who he'd be if he wasn't crippled the way he was. But he'd learned long ago that pity got him nowhere, and it gave him nothing. All it did was empty him further.

"I shouldn't, no," he agreed quietly, "but I  _do_ , and I've been doing it for years. Years and years, in fact. I've been dealing with this since before we met, and I'll be dealing with it for years to come. It's who I am now."

Sirius fixed Remus with a desperate look. "But why do you have to go through it alone?" he begged.

 _Because,_ Remus was ready to answer,  _I don't have anyone to help me._

And there it was – the realisation he'd been unwilling to face.

His friends were offering him the kind of help he'd never had, the kind of help that wasn't lightly given, and would likely never be offered to him again. Remus didn't have to go through it alone, he realised. His friends could help him. They could be there with him. He wouldn't be so alone.

But there was still the major factor of their safety.

"I don't want you to get hurt," he murmured, unable to look at either of them, ashamed of his moment of weakness, of selfishness. "I couldn't bare it."

"And you think  _we_  want to see  _you_  get hurt?" Peter interjected, sounding insulted. Remus and Sirius both looked at him, surprised at the sudden outburst. "It's not like it's any easier for us, you know," he went on, turning slightly red in the face, either from their attentiveness or the longevity of his speech. "All we want is to help keep you safe. We want you safe and happy, and with no broken arms." He nodded firmly, cementing his piece.

"Yeah," Sirius said, awed, "what Peter just said."

Remus blinked repeatedly. "Dislocated," he corrected him. "It's - it was dislocated, not... not broken."

"Well," Peter went on, looking ruffled, "try-outs start in five minutes and we'll miss them if we don't get a move on."

Sirius nodded, dumbstruck. "Yeah," he agreed. He looked at Remus as if to say,  _'Well, wasn't that something?'_

Peter and Sirius left after saying their final goodbyes, Sirius still taking bites from his apple, and then Remus was alone with his thoughts.

* * *

Halloween arrived without Remus realising, and he was left without a costume for the traditional Halloween ball. He didn't mind, though, since he wasn't a fan of costumes to start with. What did bother him however was the news that his best friends had purchased an alarming amount of Zonko's Dungbombs just in time for the festivities. That wasn't a good sign in the slightest.

"It's just for a little prank we're planning," James said sweetly, tucking the large box of Dungbombs under his bed where they were safe from prying eyes. He brushed himself down as he stood to full height and he said, "It's not like we're planning to blow up the hall, or anything."

"No, just ruin the night, that's all," Remus grumbled. He was certain that Dungbombs weren't allowed in the school, and was even more certain that any use of them at the ball would bring about serious consequences.

"We won't ruin the night," James said hotly, looking wounded that Remus had thought so low of him. "We just want to create a little excitement, that's all."

"And you couldn't do that by letting off fireworks, or something?" Remus whined, feeling like a wet blanket as he tried to talk sensibly with them. "You have to realise that this is a bad idea, right?"

Sirius was lounging on his bed reading one of his strange Muggle magazines, but he looked up at that and said, "We often have ideas that you often consider bad, but as you might have noticed we're yet to be expelled, we still have all our limbs, and we've never once caught on fire, despite all your warnings."

Remus scowled. It was hard sometimes, trying to keep them from behaving badly. He felt as though his words often fell on deaf ears, or that he was ignored for the sake of their enjoyment.

"Well," he said, huffing angrily at their inability to see sense, "when you're facing expulsion, don't come crying to me."

Sirius chuckled, and Remus wanted to hit him.

* * *

Remus hadn't attended last year's Halloween ball, because he'd been crawling through the One Eyed Witch passageway with his friends instead. From what he remembered of the ball from his first year at Hogwarts, it was large and loud and there were all kinds of pumpkin flavoured food. This year was no different.

"You look so boring," Lily groaned when she found him halfway through the night, standing awkwardly by a table laden with pumpkin pasties. She was dressed as Little Red Riding Hood, complete with a basket of goodies in her hands. Remus was proud of himself for recognising her distinctly Muggle costume.

He smiled meekly. "I'm terrible, I know."

"Here," Lily began, digging through her basket in search of something, "I bought wolf ears for Severus to wear so we could be the same. Little Red Riding Hood – the Big Bad Wolf – blah, blah, blah. But I don't even know where he's disappeared to." She glanced around the room worriedly, and Remus felt a pang of pity for her. She seemed to truly like Severus, and from what Remus had seen Severus also liked her, but their differences were huge.

Remus felt a little queasy at the thought of wearing wolf ears, but when she pulled them from her basket and handed them to him, a hopeful smile on her face, he couldn't say no.

They could easily have been any kind of animal ears, because they were two brown fluffy triangles attached to a plastic headband that kept them in place, and they looked rather anonymously plain. Remus put them on and grimaced as Lily laughed joyously at his appearance.

"Wonderful," she said, clapping her hands and bouncing a little. "You look wonderful." She reached up to adjust them, her fingers brushing his hair a little, and then settled back to take him in. "Much better," she assured him with a warm smile.

Almost as though drawn by Lily's presence, James suddenly burst through the crowd and appeared at their side. He was dressed as a knight, complete with what Remus hoped wasn't a stolen shield from one of the statues around the castle. He clutched Remus by the arm and tugged him in the direction he'd just come from.

"Remus," he gasped, looking breathless and flustered, "I've been looking everywhere for you. Do you want to come and help us set up the – Oh, Evans. Fancy seeing you here." He grinned brightly and released Remus so he could ruffle his hair like he so often did when Lily was there to see. "Lovely outfit, by the way. Err, what are you?"

"I'm annoyed, presently," she replied, eyeing him distrustfully. She held her basket closer to her, looking almost defensive. "Severus told me you turned his uniform pink on Thursday."

James laughed and said buoyantly, "That was nothing! That was just a little joke between the two of us." His laughter died off nervously at Lily's venomous stare.

"Your little jokes aren't funny, you know," she told him, and Remus almost nodded to agree. "You're just a pathetic bully."

James shrugged carelessly, but colour was rising in his face and giving away his embarrassment. "You say bully, I say comedian. We should get together later to discuss it at length. I'll provide the snacks."

Lily's lip curled and her eye twitched. "You  _infuriate_ me!" she hissed, and with a stamp of her foot she turned and stormed off. She stopped on her way and spun back to face him; she pointed at him warningly and snapped, "Stay away from Severus!" Then she was gone.

"What a woman," James sighed, watching her leave. He smiled fondly and looked at Remus, saying with a confidential air, "That's a woman I could marry."

Remus shook his head exasperatedly.

"Well," James went on, tearing his eyes from where Lily had been, "we'd better get moving, if we want everything to go as planned."

"Wait," Remus said, hurrying after James as they made their way through the thick crowd of costumed students, "if this is about your stupid prank, I don't want any part of it whatsoever. Not all of us can risk expulsion, thank you! Some of us want an education!"

James rolled his eyes at him over his shoulder. "Some of us want to have fun sometimes, though I know that might surprise you."

"I can have fun as well as you can," Remus argued, struggling to keep up with James's longer strides and battle the crowd at the same time, "I just do it  _responsibly._ "

"Rubbish," James said, "your idea of fun is a cup of tea and a book about soil."

"I don't read about  _soil!_ " Remus cried indignantly. "Why would you even  _think that?_ "

They left the hall and entered the corridor, which was significantly less crowded. Two sixth years were wildly snogging by the staircase, and a fifth year Ravenclaw was spewing into her shoe while she sat miserably on the floor.

Sirius and Peter were waiting for them in an empty office just off from the corridor. The room was dark save for their wand light, and on the table between them was the large box of Dungbombs. Peter looked gleeful as he chattered excitedly and peered inside the box, gently inspecting the contents. He was dressed as a pumpkin, but looked more like someone had dunked him in orange paint.

"Just in time, lads," Sirius said, beckoning them with a twitch of his hand. "These babies are ready to stink."

James went forward eagerly, but Remus hung back at the doorway, very uncomfortable with how things were going.

"You know – uh – I'm not actually all that okay with this idea – it's very risky, and – uh – some people are allergic to the artificial ingredients in Dungbombs – what if someone has a reaction and dies?" He shook his head and shivered. "We'd be murderers."

Sirius, who was dressed as a pirate, stared at him. One eye was hidden behind a plastic eye-patch, but the stare was still very effective at expressing his disappointment.

"I told you from the start that I wasn't okay with this," Remus pointed out, feeling absurdly guilty. How did they have the ability to make him feel bad for doing the right thing?

Sirius pouted.

"Don't," Remus warned him.

" _Reeeemus_ ," he whined.

"Sirius," he replied shortly. "I'm not doing this. You're not making me do this."

James looked back at him and said, "It'll be fun."

"It'll be enough for a detention, at least."

"So?" Sirius answered, as if a detention was nothing – which, to him, it wasn't.

Remus pressed his lips together fiercely like a child refusing to accept a spoonful of its least favourite food, and shook his head. Before they could argue further, Remus stumbled out of the room and hurried down the corridor (ignoring the vomiting fifth year and the two passionate sixth years) before making his way outside to the courtyard where they sometimes spent their lunchtimes.

It was dark and cold outside, but there were pumpkin shaped lanterns hanging in long strands like Christmas lights around the yard, which gave off warm orange glows. Remus sat shivering on a bench, wondering how long it would take before he heard the screams and the sound of disgusted vomiting from the hall. His friends would be severely punished for ruining the evening. It was one thing to occasionally throw a Dungbomb at breakfast, but to do so at a school ball was something else entirely. It was cruel.

Remus wondered why he was so weak when it came to his friends. He was never able to stand up to them – not properly, at least. Sure, he could find a way to excuse himself from their plans, but if he was a good person, a good friend, he'd find a way to stop them from doing it altogether. He'd prevent them from bullying Severus, rather than just standing back and watching. He'd stop them from pulling dangerous pranks. He'd keep them from hurting others. He wanted to be able to say something and stand by it, to show some authority, some dominance. He wanted to be strong for once.

Since Peter and Sirius had visited him in the hospital wing he'd felt himself weakening towards their idea, which worried him to no end. He remembered how passionately adamant he'd been at the beginning. He'd had nightmares about it. He'd dreamed of his friends' bodies, of their dead unseeing eyes, of their blood on his clothes and in his mouth.

And now he couldn't help the occasional thought that maybe, if he was careful, it would be okay. They could join him as animals, and they'd be together, and maybe it would work. Maybe they wouldn't die. Maybe he wouldn't kill them.

Maybe wasn't enough, though. Maybe wasn't a guarantee.

It all came down to one simple thing: Remus was selfish. He didn't enforce rules upon his friends when he knew he ought to because he selfishly wanted them to like him, wanted them to think he was fun and easy to be around, wanted them to stay his friends. He was considering their idea because he was selfish and wanted someone to be with him. He wanted someone to help him, to keep him safe, to know what he went through and stay with him all the same. He selfishly didn't care if it ruined their lives, if it cost them theirs.

"I'm selfish," he breathed, and the word steamed in the cold air of the courtyard.

He dug a hole in the frosted dirt with the toe of his shoe for a while, listening to the murmured music from the hall and waiting for the signs of chaos from the unleashed Dungbombs. He was growing worried, thinking that perhaps his friends had been found out before they could do anything, when there was the sound of footsteps approaching and then someone called out his name.

"Remus," called Sirius, "you're going to freeze your arse off out here."

"Beats getting my arse expelled, if you don't mind me saying so," he replied bitterly as Sirius sat beside him on the bench, eyeing the hole Remus had nudged into existence with a questionable quirk of his eyebrow. He was still wearing his eye-patch.

"Don't be such a worry wart," Sirius said quietly, fondly. He turned to look at Remus, who saw the movement only from the corner of his eye. "Nice ears," Sirius murmured, and Remus jumped slightly when Sirius's hand brushed against his head, his fingers playing with the ears Lily had given him.

"Wolf ears," Remus muttered, smirking sadly. "Lily's."

"They suit you," Sirius told him, and Remus chuckled. Sirius lowered his hand, and Remus felt he could breathe again.

The music was still swelling from inside, the words inaudible from their distance. Remus tried to recognise the tune but couldn't. He could hear crickets from somewhere nearby. It was windless outside, like the world was totally still.

"Hey," Sirius began, slow and cautious, his voice uncommonly nervous, "about the whole Animagus thing."

Remus tensed automatically. "Let's not-" he started, but Sirius interrupted.

"No, no," he said quickly, "please, just let me say this." He sounded strangely sincere, and there was a noticeable lack of persuasiveness to his tone. He sounded tired. When he didn't continue Remus realised he was waiting for permission.

"Sure," he said, and he could hear the doubt in his voice. "Sure, whatever – say what you want. Just..." He trailed off.

Sirius took a breath, one that sounded surprisingly weak, and said, "I've been thinking about it, and about what you said in the hospital – about how you couldn't stand seeing us hurt. It made me think I might have been acting a little unfairly."

Remus wanted to laugh at the injustice of Sirius only deeming it " _a little_ " unfair, but somehow sensed that this was a big deal for Sirius, and so he said nothing.

"I mean, this is your problem, and if you don't want our help it's not as though we can force it upon you," Sirius went on. "That'd be wrong." He began to fiddle with his hands in his lap, and he only looked at the ground between his knees. Remus had never seen him look so meek. "I want you to be happy... that's the whole reason why we thought of this plan to begin with. We just want you to be happy and safe and okay. But if by doing this we're making you unhappy... well that's pretty useless of us."

"I'm not unhappy," Remus told him, "I've just been..." He struggled to find the right word.

"You've been unhappy," Sirius instantly countered, "don't try to tell me otherwise. I know you, Remus, and when you break out the shortbread biscuits that's when I know you're not okay. And there's been a lot of shortbread crumbs in the dormitory of late."

Remus grumbled unintelligibly under his breath.

"So basically what I wanted to say was that if I'm going about this the wrong way... if I'm forcing you... if this truly isn't what you want... I'll stop. I'll let the subject go, and we can forget I ever thought to become an Animagus. Who wants to be a shark anyway, right?" He made a weak attempt at laughter, but it fell flat in the cold.

Remus blinked several times and wet his lips. "I don't want to see you hurt," he said eventually. "I couldn't stand it." He was quiet for a moment. "But what Peter said the other day, about how you can't stand to see me hurt either... I hadn't thought of it that way before."

"We want you safe just as you want us safe," Sirius agreed. "It's a two way street."

For a moment Remus was unable to speak. He sat there, caught between two choices, and thought he might tear right down the middle. He hung his head and massaged his forehead with his fingers, desperation licking at him like hungry flames.

"If I let you do this it will only prove that I'm selfish," he said in a strangled voice. "I'd be putting my happiness before your safety."

"It's not selfish to accept help when it's offered," Sirius said quietly, and his hand came to rest gently on Remus's shoulder, a small sign of comfort. "I want to help you," he said. "I want to do this for you."

"And if I hurt you?" Remus asked, imagined scenarios flashing through his mind like strobe lights, burning into his vision.

Sirius's hand rubbed gently at his shoulder and he said with all the confidence he possessed, "You won't."

"You can't know that," Remus pointed out, feeling miserable.

"Not unless we try," Sirius agreed. "But that requires saying yes, first."

Remus's stomach clenched and he felt lightheaded. He was potentially throwing his friends' lives away.

"I'll regret this," he said quietly, knowing he had no choice now, that he'd already agreed. He'd given up, like he always did. He hadn't held his ground. He was weak and selfish.

"Maybe," Sirius allowed, "but maybe you won't."

He took a breath. "Okay," he said, shaky but firm, "yes, okay, let's do it."

Sirius stretched his arm around Remus's shoulders and hugged him, their sides meshing together. It was warm, and distinctly nice.

"Thank you," Remus said, feeling small and inadequate.

It was mere moments later that the hall burst into screams, and Remus and Sirius both watched as dozens of students staggered from the castle out into the courtyard, retching and desperate for clean air.

"Bastards," Remus murmured, throwing a mild elbow into Sirius's ribs.

"Hey, it wasn't me," Sirius said innocently. "You're my alibi, now." He beamed angelically.

They watched as Hagrid thundered out of the castle, his enormous hands clutching at his mouth like he was desperate to hold something in.

"Oh Merlin," Sirius breathed, and together, dressed as a pirate and a poor wolf, they watched as Hagrid showered a group of second years in a chunky spray of vomit.

* * *

"This could be considered child abuse," James complained one night after returning from an afternoon of scrubbing floors with Peter as part of their punishment for disrupting the Halloween feast. He was covered in dark stains and smudges, and his fingers were red and blistered. "What kind of person makes wee children such as us scrub floors like – like some kind of  _house-elf?_ "

"Filch," Peter replied woefully, inspecting his own blistered hands.

Remus looked up from the book he was reading, a massive tome on the more lethal side of Animagus transitions that he'd borrowed from the library. "I did tell you not to do it," he reminded them in a saccharine voice. "I warned you."

"Shut up," James grumbled, and he crumpled into the armchair opposite Remus and promptly shut his eyes. "I could sleep for an eternity, I'm that tired."

Peter was already nodding off in his seat by the fire, his mouth open and his lips quivering as he whispered streams of inaudible dialogue in his sleep.

Peter and James had been spending their free time with Filch cleaning out classrooms without the use of magic. It was a long and tedious process, one that would continue until Christmas break. James had been banned from Quidditch until Christmas, and Peter, who did nothing outside of class, was to write an essay on the dangers of Dungbombs left hidden in food.

While they were off suffering for their misdeeds, Sirius and Remus had taken to spending their time in the library. Since agreeing with their Animagus plan, Remus had started studying everything on the subject. He'd borrowed Lily's notes from the related lessons in Transfiguration, and he'd borrowed three books on the process of becoming and Animagus and he was intending on going back for more once he'd finished them.

Remus was used to spending his time in the library with Lily, who offered easy conversation about simple, every-day things. They shared notes and knowledge, and much of their time was spent quietly copying down information.

Studying with Sirius was a much different matter. Sirius had the shortest attention span in the world, Remus quickly realised, and he fidgeted endlessly with anything at hand. Twice Remus had looked up from his reading to find Sirius folding paper airplanes out of sheets of ancient paper he'd torn from centuries old books.

What frustrated Remus the most, though, was that despite Sirius's utter disinterest in studying or taking notes, he still managed to remember far more than Remus could. If Remus didn't know something, Sirius already did. Sirius absorbed knowledge like it was nothing, like it was air and he was merely breathing. He didn't need to try to be smart. It was natural with him.

"Find anything today?" James asked sleepily, peeking at Remus and Sirius through a cracked eye.

"It was boring," Sirius huffed, like he was a child being forced to accompany their mother on an errand. "All we ever do is sit there and read."

"That's the whole point," Remus sighed, feeling almost as tired as James looked. "We're reading because we need to learn how to do this. So – you know – you don't  _die_ or anything when you try to change."

"I'm not about to die," Sirius grumbled, rolling his eyes. At Remus's glare he quickly amended, "At least not any time soon, as long as we – uh – read up and study hard and do this thing the right way!"

Remus narrowed his eyes at the broad grin Sirius shot his way.

* * *

"Look at the little shit," Sirius whispered, hovering conspicuously beside Remus, trying to hide himself behind the library shelves as he spied on his brother. "Did you know he associates with Snivellus? No one told me he associates with Snivellus."

Remus scanned the spines of the books before him, searching for the one he was certain would be there. "Why do you care that he studies with Severus?" Remus asked distractedly. "You don't even talk to him. If you weren't so bloody identical I doubt anyone would even realise you were related."

"We're not identical," Sirius hissed, ducking a little and peering through a gap in the shelf to get a better view of his brother. "I have longer hair now, in case you haven't bloody noticed, and he's an inch shorter."

"Yes, because that makes  _such_ a difference," said Remus. He trailed a finger along the shelf, still searching. It was hard to concentrate with Sirius chattering at him.

Sirius, no longer even pretending to have any interest in their research, went on fervently, "And besides, he walks with a glide, whereas I stroll. We're actually very different from one another." He nodded to himself, as though he needed that extra bit of reassurance.

"Are you going to help me any time soon?"

"Look at them, studying together like – like they're you and Evans. Who do they think they are? Who does  _Snivellus_  think he is, polluting my brother like that?"

Remus sighed, almost giving up. "He's not half bad at Potions, remember," he pointed out. "Maybe your brother just needs help."

"Well I don't like it," Sirius continued, trailing slowly after Remus but still keeping his brother in his sight. "You'd think they're friends or something, to look at them like that."

"Maybe they are," Remus suggested. "That's not too big of a stretch, is it? They're both in Slytherin, after all, and one year isn't a big difference."

Sirius's groan of despair was so loud it was quite likely his brother heard it from his desk.

"Don't say that," Sirius pleaded, grabbing two handfuls of his own hair and tugging maniacally. "Don't besmirch my brother in this way, my dearest friend. You'll break my stony heart." He swooned dramatically, pretending to faint, and he leaned against the shelf and nearly knocked it backwards, almost sending Remus almost into a fit.

"You shouldn't be allowed in libraries," Remus scolded, tugging him away from the shelf while Sirius chuckled impishly and continued to buckle at the knees. "You're not even using an inside voice."

"Inside voices are for sissies," Sirius insisted, and he shot a whiny look in his brother's direction.

"You're ridiculous," Remus told him, meaning it, but finding it oddly endearing all the same.

"Come on," said Sirius, "let's give up for the day." He looked towards the nearest window and said, "See that, Remus? That's sunshine, that is. And there's more of it, too! Much more of it! I can take you to a place where there's sunshine for half the day! It's a place called – wait for it – the outdoors!"

Remus tried to look displeased, but his smile cracked through. "You're a horrible study partner," he accused his friend, laughing as he said it. "You have nothing on Lily."

"I have my stellar good looks, charm, and more than a healthy dose of wit," Sirius promptly replied, rocking back on his heels and looking proud as punch. "Evans can keep her insane genius powers."

Remus opened his mouth to argue, but shut it again. He swallowed. Sirius's fingers curled around his wrist and tugged gently, leading him out of the shelves and towards the door. When he let go, Remus's skin felt cold.

* * *

They opted out of watching Gryffindor play Slytherin, knowing it would only wreck James, who occasionally burst into hysterical tears whenever Quidditch was mentioned now that he'd been banned for the duration of his punishment. Instead, they stayed in the deserted common room and played exploding snap.

James was sitting on the windowsill, no doubt trying to catch a glimpse of the match out on the pitch. "You know," he said, "Christmas break is next week."

Remus looked up from the game, trying to read James's expression.

"I was thinking," James went on, "do you lot want to stay at my house for the break? We have plenty of room, and we can keep researching Animagi, too." He glanced at Sirius, and Remus knew it was mostly for Sirius's benefit that James was offering.

"Are your parents okay with it?" Remus asked, knowing full well that James was usually overly optimistic.

Remus had never met James's parents, but he knew from what James and Sirius (who had stayed with them once over the school break, for reasons he left unsaid) had told him that they had given birth to James rather late in their lives, and they were quite wealthy.

"Of course," James said brightly. He slipped down from the windowsill and walked back to the game, excitement building in his features. "They suggested it! They think it's lonely, because it's only ever the three of us at Christmas. They'd love to have you all."

Peter gurgled excitedly and said, "I'll come, James!"

James clapped him on the back and ruffled his hair enthusiastically. "That's my boy!" he cooed. "What about you two?" He looked expectantly at Sirius and Remus.

"I'm definitely coming," Sirius said, as though that was obvious. "Merlin's pants, James, as if I'd turn down your mother's cooking."

"Smart man," James said, smiling.

They all looked at Remus.

"C'mon, Remus," Sirius coaxed.

"It'll be fun," James promised.

"Please?" Peter wheedled.

Remus bit his lip hesitantly and thought of his mother. He hadn't seen her in weeks, and he'd been sporadic with his letters. It was dreadful of him, but sometimes it was easier not to think of her at all.

"I'll write home and see if it's okay," he said eventually, doubt thick in his voice, but from the cheers his friends made it was as good as a yes.


	7. Chapter 7

It took four letters and more than a few promises before Remus was able to convince his parents to let him spend his Christmas break with the Potters. It was a lucky thing that the full moon was due to arrive the week after they returned to Hogwarts and not during the break itself, because that certainly would have put a stop to things. He didn't dare imagine what would happen if he transformed whilst at James's house, surrounded by people.

The journey back to London on the Hogwarts Express seemed to take eons, as trips often did when Remus was looking forward to the arrival. Peter napped for the majority of the ride, snoring and muttering as he did, and James, Sirius, and Remus tried to play I-Spy with little enthusiasm. There were only so many things you could spy from a quickly moving train in the middle of the barren countryside before you ran out of anything original.

"I'm so excited," James said for the third time in as many minutes. He poured a small selection of Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans into the palm of his hand and picked one with great care. Remus understood his precaution – Every Flavour Beans were a risky treat. "I can't wait for us to arrive."

"I'm looking forward to meeting your parents," Remus told him, accepting a bean when James offered him the box. "Thanks," he said. Luckily, it was toffee apple flavour.

"You'll love his mum," Sirius assured him, adding a lewd wriggle of his eyebrows and a wink when James looked his way.

"Shut it," James warned. To Remus he added, "They said they're looking forward to meeting you, too. I've told them all about you – well, I've  _mostly_ told them all about you. I left out your furry little problem."

"I hope I don't put my foot in it," Remus murmured, and Sirius snorted loudly as though the idea was ludicrous, which Remus highly doubted it was.

"Honestly," he began, "Mrs Potter loves everyone. The chance of you putting your foot in it and ruining things is precisely 0%."

"That's debatable," Remus muttered. It wasn't as though he'd had a lot of experience meeting the parents of his friends before. Before Hogwarts he hadn't known more than a dozen people, and most were relatives.

The countryside outside their window soon began to thin, and buildings and farms thickened. James's excitement peaked when the train entered the city. Buildings gathered and grew, and the train started to slow.

"We're here!" he cried, bouncing in his seat and jolting Peter so terribly that he woke with a cry.

People were moving in the hall outside their carriage, no doubt eagerly making their way to the exits ahead of time so they could be first off to see their awaiting parents. James, it seemed, was of the same mind.

"Bloody heavy bastard of a thing," he muttered to himself as he pulled his travelling trunk down from the luggage rack, nearly dropping it on Peter, who still looked half asleep and was blinking groggily.

The train slowed further still, and Remus got unsteadily to his feet (his legs were slightly numb from sitting so still for so long, and he had pins and needles tingling gently in his feet) and started gathering his own things. He felt excitement building in his stomach, which was churning nervously. He was about to meet the Potters, and he was terrified. He'd never had to live up to anyone's expectations before.

The train stopped and they gathered their luggage as quickly as possible, hurried along by James, who was ready and willing to leap out of the window to meet his parents. Remus was telling him about the importance of pacing oneself when Peter slid the compartment door open and nearly bowled right into Regulus Black.

"Honestly," Regulus huffed, recognising Peter and then spotting Sirius behind him, still in the compartment, "if you expect me to believe this wasn't planned and carefully orchestrated, you have another thing coming."

"Actually, it's merely a highly unbelievable coincidence," Sirius grumbled, shouldering Peter back into the compartment and standing with his brother in the doorway. He eyed his brother with an air of disinterest, but there was an energy about him that sparked and sizzled in the small compartment. "You're going home for the break?" he asked.

Regulus fixed him with a blank stare. "No," he said dryly, "I just fancied a trip to London, and thought I'd bring all my things with me."

"Smartarse," Sirius murmured, not with unkindness. A smirk dared to tug at the corner of his mouth.

Regulus glanced at Sirius's trunk, a small frown between his brows. "And you?" he asked. "Should I save you a seat at the dinner table? Would you like to sit beside Aunt Druella?"

"No thank you," Sirius replied, and Remus noticed the slight jovial tone to his voice, the lilt and brightness that was more common in conversations with his friends than with his estranged brother. "You'll give Kreacher my best, won't you?"

"Of course I will," Regulus trilled, adopting a playful look of scandalised offense. "What do you take me for? A troll?"

"Never," replied Sirius. "I take you for a Black."

Regulus's expression shuttered closed, and Remus watched as what little humour he'd smiled with disappeared.

"Well," he said, stiffly now, "I should go. You know how they are."

"I do," agreed Sirius, and Remus would have to be deaf to miss the darkness in his voice, the warning, the sadness.

Regulus watched his brother for a moment before saying, "Happy holidays, Sirius." He disappeared into the crowd in the hall, leaving Sirius standing there alone.

"What a sod," he murmured quietly, almost to himself. He looked back at Remus and the others and said, loud and direct, "He could've been great in Gryffindor."

Remus gathered his trunk and gave Sirius a hardy pat on the shoulder on their way out of the compartment. There had been many times when Remus had wondered about Sirius and Regulus, and whether they'd always had such a sour relationship as Sirius claimed. They were so similar and so close in age that Remus just knew they had to have been close before Hogwarts. Before Sirius became a Gryffindor.

It was cold out on the platform, and Remus was glad for his cardigan. Steam clouded with his every breath and his fingers were icy around the handle of his trunk. It was definitely Christmas time.

"This way," James said from in front of them, taking on the role of leader. "They always wait by the clock."

There was no mistaking Mr and Mrs Potter from anyone else, Remus quickly realised upon spying the elderly pair standing (just as James said they'd be) under the clock. They were so clearly James's parents in every aspect, in every tiny detail.

Mrs Potter was short and plump with a head of curly white hair that bobbed around her shoulders. She had James's poor eyesight and wore a pair of large dark-rimmed glasses. Mr Potter was tall and lanky, built like his son, with the same messy black hair – though his was more than a little grey in places.

Despite their obvious old age, both of them still looked full of life.

"James!" Mrs Potter called, spotting her son in the crowd and waving cheerily.

"Prepare yourselves for broken ribs, boys," James murmured out of the corner of his mouth, and then he was crushed in a hug from his mother, one that lasted longer than he might have liked, if his red face was any suggestion. When she released him she held him at arm's length for a moment, checking him over for any changes.

"You're taller," she said, teary eyed. "My little boy's growing up!"

"Mum," James groaned, "I saw you just a few months ago."

She patted him clumsily on the cheek and ruffled his hair, saying, "I know, I know…"

James disentangled himself from his mother and took a breath. "Mum, dad," he began, taking a breath, "this is Remus Lupin, and this is Peter Pettigrew. You already know the other loon." He grinned at Sirius, who snorted and bumped their shoulders together.

Mrs Potter's eyes fell upon Remus and Peter as though they were lost children, and she made a soft cooing sound that sounded remarkably close to tears, or something similar.

"Oh, boys," she said, surprisingly emotional, "I've heard so much about the both of you." She smoothed Peter's robes down across his shoulders and wiped a smudge of pumpkin pasty from his chin before smothering him in a hug. "Aren't you a sweet little thing," she said fondly, and Peter turned bright red.

"Abigail," said Mr Potter, speaking for the first time, "you'll embarrass the poor lad to death if you keep that up." He laughed gruffly and ruffled his hair, reminding Remus of his son.

Mrs Potter's eyes were warm as she said, "Sorry, love." She patted Peter on the cheek as she had James, and then her attention was on Remus.

Her eyes – which were a warm hazel, like her son's – traced Remus's scars and filled with watery pity. He was glad he wasn't yet suffering from the tiring effects of the moon, because otherwise he'd have been even more pitiful to behold and she might have started bawling right there on the platform.

"Remus, dear," she choked, "let me give you a hug." Before he could protest, her arms were warm and tight around him and her hair was against his cheek, soft and smelling of perfume.

She welcomed Remus into her arms like he was her son, and Remus loved her already.

It took a while before James interrupted with embarrassment, saying, "Mum, you really ought to let him go now. People are getting concerned."

Mrs Potter released him, taking her warmth with her, and Remus rocked awkwardly on his heels as she tried to subtly wipe her wet eyes.

"Sirius, love," she spluttered, sounding like she was on the verge of sobbing, "it's good to see you again." Before Mr Potter could hold her back, she tackled Sirius in a hug that made his eyes bulge.

"The feeling's mutual, Mrs Potter," he told her in a voice that was more polite than Remus would have thought him capable of. He patted her on the back and she let him go, red eyed and smiling.

"Well you certainly squeezed us enough, mum, so can we go now, please?" James whined, looking embarrassed. "People are giving us looks. It's becoming indecent."

"Let them look," Mrs Potter declared, and she slung an arm around her son's shoulder and covered his face in exuberant kisses.

"Mum!" James wailed, flailing in her arms, and Sirius laughed maniacally.

* * *

The Potters had a large house in a mostly Muggle village, though there were still many wizarding families in the area. The house itself was bigger than any Remus had seen before, and it filled him with awe. It had three storeys and a large back and front yard, and it looked like something from a film or a fairy tale. Remus had always considered a guest room to be an extravagance, but the Potters had  _two_.

They were on their way up the stairs to the guest rooms when Sirius murmured, "It's nothing like my house."

Remus tried to imagine Sirius's house and Sirius's parents. He knew the Black family was old and noble, and they definitely weren't short for funds. It made sense for them to have a family home, something as ancient and beautiful as the family that lived there. But from what little Sirius had said, it wasn't anything to be envious of.

"My house is probably the size of their bathroom," Remus replied, a little embarrassed. He couldn't imagine his friends visiting him at home.

"Mine's like a prison," muttered Sirius, and Remus worried.

In each guest room waited two beds, and Sirius clung to Remus and cried, "We'll share!" Peter frowned with disappointment and trudged into his room, leaving Sirius to sigh, "Thank Merlin, I'd have smothered him if I'd had to spend more time than necessary listening to him sniffling in his sleep."

Remus smiled as a warm feeling bubbled inside him.

* * *

They ate dinner in a spacious dining room at a large table that could easily have fit a dozen people or more. One wall was made of tall, narrow windows, and it gave Remus the impression that the Potter family had nothing to hide from the world outside. They lived openly, without secrets. It was frighteningly different from what Remus was used to at his own house.

Mr Potter spent dinner chatting amiably with Sirius about Muggle motorbikes. He explained that he spent most of his free time with his Muggle friend, a man who was incredibly enthusiastic about motorbikes and had even talked him into riding one. Sirius, Remus discovered, was saving to buy one once he left home. Remus wasn't sure if that was such a good idea, since Sirius was reckless at the best of times, and had a habit of finding himself in dangerous situations that he thought were quite amusing. (Again, Remus remembered that he was helping his friends endanger their lives by aiding their Animagus research, and he felt a wave of unease wash over him before he was able to push it back.)

Mrs Potter kept asking questions of them all, inquiring about their schoolwork, their grades, their classes, and their other friends. James talked bitterly of Severus, sheepishly not daring to call him by his usual taunting nickname in front of his parents. When Sirius brought up Lily, smirking with a playful glint in his eyes, James turned bright red and choked on his dinner.

Once or twice Remus was certain Mrs Potter was going to ask him how he'd managed to get such painfully large scars on his face. He saw the question in her eyes, which swam with pity and sympathy and concern. He could practically hear her soft, motherly voice as she asked. He could imagine the awkward silence that would descend upon them all the moment she voiced the question.

But she never asked, and Remus was almost sick with relief.

* * *

When they weren't outside in the snow, or helping Mr and Mrs Potter decorate their home for the holiday season, Remus and the others tried to continue their research on Animagus transitions. It was hard, because Mrs Potter had a habit of appearing out of nowhere and asking them what they were up to, and offering them some kind of freshly baked dessert. They had collectively decided to keep the subject of their study secret from her out of fear that it would raise too many questions, and so instead they answered vaguely and made up lies about projects and essays that were due on their return. She accepted their excuses readily, and commended them and wished them luck with their work.

Peter was useless, for the most part. He usually read a page from one of the large books before quickly growing bored, and then he simply sat staring into the distance with a glazed look over his eyes. They eventually stopped asking him to do the reading, and he was instead given the task of listening for Mrs Potter's approach. That, at least, he could do.

James lacked ambition, which Remus had always been aware of, but it had never been quite so obvious as it was in his family home. There was too much to distract him – like Quidditch in the backyard, chess with his father, card games with Sirius – and studying was of little interest to him. It was impossible to make James Potter do something he didn't want to do, but Remus tried his best to keep him studying, despite knowing that it was hopeless.

Sirius, surprisingly enough, spent as much time studying as Remus did. Normally Sirius felt the same way about studying and schoolwork as James did, and when Remus discovered how difficult it was to keep James on task he quickly realised that it wouldn't be long before Sirius followed suit. But days passed and Sirius remained by Remus's side, turning page after page and rubbing tiredly at his eyes as the light in the room grew darker as each hour went by. He didn't leave.

"I have to admit," Remus said quietly one night when the others had long since left them to their work, "I didn't think you'd still be here." He glanced hesitantly at Sirius, a little worried that he might have offended him.

Sirius looked up from the ancient book he was reading from, frowning with confusion. "What do you mean?" he asked, and he scratched a hand through his hair, which was getting shaggy and long and yet continued to flatter his features. It was almost infuriating, really.

"It's just…" Remus began, unsure of how to say it without being at least somewhat insulting, "James and Peter, they haven't exactly – uh – pulled their weight, so to speak. With the research, I mean."

A smile tugged at the corner of Sirius's mouth, and his tired eyes were warm and fond as he met Remus's gaze. "You're amazed I haven't bailed already," he surmised. "It's okay, you can say it." He grinned and looked like he was on the verge of amused laughter.

Remus shrugged, feeling a little embarrassed. "Well, yeah, pretty much."

"It'd be pretty bad of me to leave you drowning in all this work when it wasn't even your idea," Sirius pointed out. "Besides," he went on, "I'm eager for us to get this done as soon as possible, and if the others aren't going to help out it just means that I have to work three times as hard in order to keep us on schedule."

Remus felt a twang of concern. He knew it was possible to make yourself sick from stress and overworking yourself, and the thought of Sirius in any kind of pain made him feel shaky and unwell. "Don't stress yourself over it," he told him forcefully, picturing Sirius lying gaunt and sick in bed, a thermometer propped comically out of his mouth. "We have the rest of our lives to get this right. It doesn't have to be sorted so soon. We're not – there's no deadline."

Sirius levelled him with a steady look. "Remus," he said slowly. "If I had it my way, you wouldn't spend another full moon alone ever again. So the sooner we get done with all this research, the sooner we can begin the transformations, and the sooner we can keep you company."

Remus worried at the inside of his lips with his teeth, biting at the soft flesh. "Don't kill yourself because of me," he said eventually, and when Sirius laughed, all courage and confidence, he quickly added, "I'm being serious here. I don't want you rushing things because you have some ridiculous notion that I shouldn't be alone when I'm a dangerous, uncontrollable, murderous beast. You've read all of these books, Sirius – you know how dangerous it is if you're not well prepared."

"I know, I know," Sirius sighed, rubbing at his eye, "and I'm not just – just passing this stuff off as rubbish, y'know. I'm reading it. I'm even making notes!" He held up the parchment on which he'd been scrawling notes down all afternoon. Remus was impressed that he hadn't added any sketches to the margins.

It was hard, and it took a lot of effort, but Remus swallowed his concern and forced himself to nod. He had to admit – if only to himself – that Sirius, at least, had started to treat their research seriously. Perhaps he was yet to grasp the true danger of their plan, but Remus still had hope that with time he would.

"Come on," Sirius said after a long silence, "we've done enough work for the day, don't you think?"

Remus nodded, feeling numb and worn thin. He stood, wobbling a little on unsteady feet, and Sirius smiled at him and placed a warm hand on his shoulder. It was silly, and entirely unwarranted, and more than a little worrying, but with the one simple touch it felt as though Remus's entire body had been set alight.

"Don't worry so much," Sirius said gently, his pale eyes focused entirely on Remus. "We're on holiday, after all."

They left the study together, and Remus breathed heavily as he tried to ignore the feeling in his gut that only seemed to appear when he was with Sirius. He desperately avoided thinking about what it might mean.

* * *

Remus woke on Christmas morning to James throwing open the door of their guest room and shouting as loudly as he could, "WAKE UP, YOU WANKERS! IT'S CHRISTMAS!" He was gone as suddenly as he'd appeared, but his voice was still audible even as he descended the stairs, still shouting and cheering and clapping his hands.

Sirius, from the bed on the opposite side of the rather small guest room, grumbled wordlessly and threw his blankets back. He sat upright and rubbed at his eyes and seemingly tried to adjust to the early hour.

Remus watched him, too tired to think about why. Sirius's skin was pale, like he'd never seen the sun, and his hair was a mess of dark curls and tangles. Compared to Remus, he looked lean and muscular. Compared to Remus, he was spectacular.

"Merry Christmas, sleepyhead," Sirius said in a gravelly sleep-worn voice, and Remus watched his lips form the words.

Remus, who was still lying under his blankets, smiled and forced himself to get out of the comfortable warmth. "Merry Christmas," he replied.

Sirius threw Remus's dressing gown at him before he pulled on his own. "C'mon," he said, "I think I can hear James demolishing all the gifts downstairs. You know how he gets."

They met everyone downstairs in the lounge. James was sitting cross-legged in front of the Christmas tree, which was surrounded by a shocking amount of gifts of various sizes, all wrapped in bright paper. Peter looked as though he was still half-asleep as he stood on wobbling feet nearby, a cup of hot chocolate cuddled in between his hands.

"Merry Christmas!" Mrs Potter cried, spotting them. She flicked her wand in the direction of the kitchen and two large mugs of hot chocolate came floating towards them, tempting swirls of steam issuing from the mugs.

They began unwrapping gifts, because if they waited any longer James might have had a stroke. Remus's parents had sent him new quills and parchment, as well as a large bag of toffees that they knew he liked. Mr and Mrs Potter gave him a stocking overflowing with chocolates. From Peter he received a homework planner, which Remus had purposely been hinting to him about, and was subsequently very pleased with. Lily had sent him a photo album which already contained several photos of them both from Halloween - photo Remus was pouting with his wolf ears, and photo Lily was beaming at his side. James gave him a thick woollen cardigan that changed colour depending on your mood and began to heat when it felt you were too cold. Sirius gave him a dragon-skin journal, which felt thick and heavy and  _perfect_ in Remus's hands, as well as a stack of books, both Muggle and otherwise.

"Thank you," Remus told them, feeling speechless. "I'm sorry if my gifts aren't as good." He'd had trouble finding gifts that weren't too expensive, and he'd mostly given them things from Honeydukes.

"Nonsense," Mr Potter said gruffly. He'd already started eating his gift from Remus, and there were smudges of chocolate around his mouth. "Chocolate's never a poor gift, son."

* * *

They were exhausted when they finally made it to bed later that night. Remus was so tired he only shrugged halfway out of his cardigan before giving up and slipping into bed with it still on. He was nearing sleep when he heard Sirius's voice breaking through the fog.

"Today was wonderful," he said, and he sounded as exhausted as Remus. "It really was."

"I agree," Remus said, too tired to give any more input than that.

"This whole holiday has been great," Sirius murmured. He yawned, and Remus yawned in response. "I'm glad you're here," he went on, sighing a little as he did, and Remus smiled into the dark where no one could see.

* * *

Sirius ate his toast with his mirror propped up against the jug of pumpkin juice, James's face visible in it instead of his own.

"This is so amusing," James said from within the glass, and Remus could just hear the echo of his voice coming from the living room.

"I know," Sirius agreed, grinning and smiling into the mirror, which in turn showed his reflection to James. The mirrors had been a gift from James's parents, and James had immediately gifted one to Sirius. They were a means of communication, and Remus could already tell that they were going to be used quite a bit.

"Really, boys, don't you think it's a bit much to be using them over breakfast?" Mrs Potter asked, settling a plate of pancakes on the table. Peter immediately took one, a starved light in his eyes.

"Mum, it's only natural that we want to test them," James told her from the mirror. "We're inquisitive teenagers. We have growing _minds_."

"But over breakfast, James?" she sighed. She reached for Remus's empty plate. "Finished, dear?"

"Yes," he said, a little startled by her affectionate way of addressing him, "thank you."

She smiled warmly at him and ruffled his hair as she accepted the plate and carried it away into the kitchen.

"This is the coolest thing," Sirius breathed, still staring excitedly at the mirror.

James grinned with agreement. "We're going to have so much fun with these," he said, and together they laughed mischievously. Remus imagined Filch would have his hands full now – even more full than they already were.

"I wonder how the mirrors work," Remus mused aloud, already thinking of what books he'd borrow from the library in order to understand them, and Sirius shrugged.

"Magic," he replied in a  _well duh_  tone.

Remus rolled his eyes, fondly exasperated by the big idiot.

* * *

They were leaving in the morning, and the house felt tired and sad as they began to prepare for departure.

"Have you read this?" Sirius asked from where he was sitting cross-legged on his bed.

Remus was packing – as Sirius ought to have been as well – and looked up from his bulging trunk of belongings to see what Sirius was reading, which was the  _Prophet_. "Not yet," he said. If he had time later he might, but he doubted it. They were on a strict schedule, after all, and he still hadn't done his research for the day.

"They seem to think this Voldemort guy is a pretty big concern," he said, a hint of anxiety in his voice. "Here, listen to this: ' _One in four people questioned said that they believe in the pureblood ideals that the Death Eaters stand and fight for._ ' That's a little worrying, don't you think? One in four?"

Remus worried at his lip. "I guess so," he reluctantly agreed.

Sirius folded the paper closed and tossed it aside, grimacing at it. "My parents think he's got the right idea," he said quietly. "My whole family, really. My aunts and uncles, my cousins… Last time I was home, my brother had started clipping articles from the  _Prophet_ regarding it all." He shuddered with disgust, his eyes lowered to the carpet. "I think he was going to stick them on his wall. Like some kind of disturbing shrine."

Remus abandoned packing and sat on his bed and faced Sirius, who looked sickly pale. "I'm sure it's just some – some crazy fad. Like lava lamps, and – and tie-dyed clothing." He laughed nervously, trying to lighten the mood.

Sirius attempted a smile, but it quivered and fell flat. "I hope you're right," he said with a sigh – a sigh that gave away how hopeless he felt.

"I'm sure of it," Remus promised him, feigning more confidence than he felt. "This whole thing will blow over in no time."

* * *

It snowed on the way back to Hogwarts, but together they were warm in their compartment.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm a really bad person for abandoning this for so long. Shout out to the people who messaged me both here and on tumblr about finishing this. I don't want to die with a WIP on my conscience.

It was the morning of the match against Slytherin, and James was a brightly coloured sore thumb at the Gryffindor table during breakfast, his uniform freshly laundered and sparkling, his name stitched across his back and his broom propped up beside him as he ate. His leg jumped nervously underneath the tabletop, bouncing to a neurotic pace. There was a smear of jam across his jaw and his hair was a wild mess - Remus got the feeling he’d had a restless sleep.

“Don’t be such a worry wart, you balmy bastard,” Sirius told him, spearing bacon with his knife, “it’s just Slytherin, remember.”

“I know that,” James said, his voice all tense edges and sharpness, “it’s just Slytherin. I know.”

“Though they have been doing pretty well, lately,” Peter interjected, “they utterly annihilated Ravenclaw before Christmas, remember? And—” He cut short at the looks he was receiving, which ranged from downright terror to stunned disbelief. “But hey!” he restarted, voice high, “go Gryffindor!” He waved his scarf in an attempt at merriment.

James went to drop his head to the table but Sirius reeled him back upright again before he could make contact.

“Salazar’s slimy shorts, what are we thinking, going out there against Slytherin? Half our team are inexperienced, and our Beaters – Merlin, our _Beaters!_ ”

“New?” Remus guessed with a grimace.

“Straight from the womb, Remus! They’re straight from the god-damned _womb!_ ” He flailed in the direction of two small second year boys further up the table, their beaters bats placed aside as they ate breakfast. One of them shot James a particularly snotty look. Remus had to admit that they weren’t very intimidating.

Sirius looked sympathetic. “No one’s going to give you any grief if you lose, mate. Everyone knows they’re a tough one to beat. Emma Vanity’s been their Captain long enough to practically read their minds on the pitch, after all. She’s a _machine_.”

James winced as though someone had punched him in the stomach. “Don’t speak that name in front of me,” he breathed. “Did you _see_ her this morning? She’s wearing war paint, Sirius. The woman is wearing war paint. That means she’s not fucking around.”

Peter twisted in his seat to peer over at the Slytherin table after Emma Vanity. “Wow!”

“Keep on eating your toast like that if you want some war paint of your own, you daft fool. You’ve got jam up to your ears.”

James scrubbed thoughtlessly at his face, missing the jam entirely, and continued fretting.

“You’ll be fine, James,” Remus said. Just watching him was enough to induce anxiety.

“Yeah,” Peter cheered, “you’re the best Chaser in the league! You’re better than the Slytherin Chasers for sure.”

“That is true,” James agreed with a ready nod.

Sirius snorted. “So modest, this one.”

They left breakfast early so as to avoid the majority of the crowds and together they walked down to the Quidditch pitch, James with his broom and his bright uniform, and the others dressed as festively as they could, wrapped in Gryffindor scarves and wearing thick woollen Gryffindor hats. The pitch was already a swarm of players, an even split of red and gold and silver and green, and the stands were quickly filling with the opposing team colours.

They were just reaching the pitch when another of the Gryffindor Quidditch team, a fourth year girl that Remus recognised from around Hogwarts but didn’t personally know, came running up to them, her own broom tucked under her arm and her white-gold hair thumping against her back in a thick braid.

“James!” she called. “Good luck today, alright? I know the odds aren’t good--”

“They’re dismal!”

“—-but if we’re quick we might be able to score enough points to win even if they catch the Snitch. I mean, their Seeker’s better than Goggin, yes, but we’re better than their Chasers, so we still have a chance.” She beamed, impervious to the little raincloud of doom that seemed to hover around James.

Sirius nudged James encouragingly. “See, James, there’s still hope!” He sounded overly enthusiastic even to Remus’s ears.

The girl's eyes slid across to Sirius, and there they stayed. “Oh, I’m sorry,” she said, her voice colouring with a new tone, something more subdued, “I’m being rude. I’m Bronwyn Trigg.”

“She’s a Chaser too,” James explained offhandedly, sounding queasy as he gazed over at the pitch and the gathering crowd of students.

“Sirius Black,” he replied, and before Peter or Remus could so much as open their mouths to introduce themselves, Bronwyn was speaking again.

“How was your Christmas, Sirius?” she asked. “Did you go home for the break?”

“Went to James’s, actually,” he replied, rocking back on his heels in the way he did when he was presented with some new puzzle or riddle. He glanced at Remus and added, “All of us did.”

“That’s really kind of the Potters,” she said, smiling at the entire group now, eyes falling from Sirius to James to Peter and Remus in turn. She didn't seem half as interested in Peter and Remus as she did in Sirius. “Anyway,” she continued, looking over her shoulder at the pitch as though just remembering she had a game to play, “we should probably get cracking, hey, James?”

“Yeah,” he agreed, looking faint.

“Cheer for us, won’t you?” Bronwyn said, smiling at Sirius who smiled back in bewilderment.

James trailed after Bronwyn towards the rest of the Gryffindor team, pausing only to send a quizzical look over his shoulder at Sirius – _What was that about?_

“Women,” Sirius sighed, pushing his hair out of his eyes, “they’re such an enigma.”

They headed for their regular seats in the stands, Sirius smiling serenely as they did, and Peter waving his scarf as a banner above his head. Remus felt his stomach clench in a tight knot and he wet his lips and wondered why he felt so cursedly awful.

_Merlin_ _help me_ , he thought. He gazed beseechingly up at the sky just as the players kicked off from the ground.

 

 

* * *

 

 

James had been right about Slytherin being a formidable opponent – they beat Gryffindor, but only by a little. James and Bronwyn were noticeably better than their Slytherin counterparts, scoring again and again and again, and yet throughout the match Slytherin made only three goals. It was the Snitch that secured them the win, though, and it was Regulus Black who caught it for them.

It had been a riveting match, and Remus had spent the entire game on the edge of his seat while Sirius and Peter stood at the front of the stand, waving their scarves and screaming encouragement.

After, once James and the rest of the players were firmly upon the ground again, Remus and the others made their way to the team changing rooms to meet with him.

They’d just passed the pitch and the throng of students when Sirius let out a frustrated huff. Remus followed his eyes across the lawns to a lone figure standing by the changing rooms, broomstick in hand, waiting for his teammates. Even from a distance it was impossible to mistake him for anyone else. Regulus stood out as brightly as Sirius did. It was clear when Regulus saw them in turn – he froze, straightened a little, and turned his face away in a shaky attempt at avoiding the situation.

“Regulus,” Sirius said once they’d closed the distance between them, his tone formal and polite. “Good game.”

When Regulus had caught the Snitch Sirius had just about fallen out of the stands in a fit. Bronwyn had been right about the Gryffindor Seeker, a fifth year boy named Goggin who was far too beefy for the Seeker position, and Regulus had easily outflown him. Goggin stood no chance against Regulus.

“Thank you,” the younger Black said, and then, “How was your Christmas?”

“It was great,” Sirius told him in a tight, veiled voice. Whenever he talked to his brother it was as though he was restraining himself and holding himself back, and it always gave him a pinched look, a tightness around his mouth. “How was yours?”

Regulus shrugged a little, one shoulder rising a hint above the other in a carefully measured gesture of nonchalance. “It was eventful.”

Sirius’s expression faltered, surprise shifting past the firm mask he tried to wear when faced with his family. Regulus didn’t miss it.

“It’s Andromeda,” he explained, voice hushed in delighted secrecy. He maintained a look of tired apathy, as though he was above petty gossip, even as he continued, “She eloped this winter – ran off with an idiot Mudblood and _married_ him, and now she’s having his _child,_ if you can believe it.” He shook his head wearily. “Aunt Druella’s furious.”

When they’d started at Hogwarts Andromeda had been a seventh year Slytherin, tall and beautiful, flitting through the halls with her head held high. Remus had known her as the poised girl, the one with the dark hair and the distinctly Black features, so different from her younger sister with her silver hair. Remus had never spoken to her – had never even been in the same room as her apart from during meals – but he’d somehow gotten the distinct feeling that she was more like Sirius than the others. 

Sirius’s shoulders were tight. “I’m happy for her,” he said. “Beats marrying one of the second cousins, doesn’t it?”

Regulus’s mouth twitched. “Mother’s already blasted her off the tapestry.” He threw the information at Sirius like a blow, like it was supposed to hurt.

“I bet the old bag enjoyed that,” Sirius said dryly, “she’s always blasting names off the bloody tapestry, isn’t she? I’m surprised there are any left on the great ugly thing.”

A boy appeared, his approach having gone unnoticed. He was dressed lavishly in Slytherin green and his eyes flickered from Regulus to Sirius, changing from concern to distrust as he absorbed the scene.

He cleared his throat. “Reg,” he said, stepping close to Regulus and casting a disgusted look across Remus and his friends, “let’s go. You're wanted elsewhere.”

It took Regulus a moment before he spoke. “Yes,” he said, “yes – sure – yeah – I’m… I’m coming, Barty, I just--” He glanced back at Sirius, lips parted, but then time shifted and he turned, broom in hand, and left.

“Christ,” Sirius breathed.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Easter appeared out of nowhere, sudden and unexpected, and Remus went home to his parents just as his friends went home to theirs. He’d been away for a long time, though he hadn't felt the distance as much as his mother did – if the way she smothered him on his return was any indication. She held him painfully close and smoothed his hair out with her trembling palms. She pressed a kiss to his forehead and breathed in the smell of him, and he in turn caught scents of musty, moth-bitten dresses and the dust from the windowsills.

“It’s so good to have you home again,” she said, bustling through the house like she had a million things that needed doing and no time in which to do them all. “Home,” she repeated, “home where you belong. It’s been so quiet without you, you know, and Christmas was such a sad affair. Your father and I barely noticed it pass, it was so quiet…”

Remus spent most of his time in his bedroom at his desk pouring over the books he’d borrowed from the library. He was still researching Animagi, still studying the transition spells, still making studious notes and then repeating the process, repeating it over and over until it was fixed knowledge within him. He had to make sure he knew the ins and outs of the complicated magic – had to make sure his friends wouldn’t die because of him.

Sirius wrote to him almost daily, sending him long, fine-lettered scrolls of parchment that went into minute detail about his time at home. He wrote about his brother, who’d said all of two words to him – “Excuse me” as he passed him on the stairs – and of his father, who’d started preaching loudly about Voldemort over the dinner table each night, and of his mother, who hissed in vicious tones about her "blood-traitor" niece whenever the opportunity arose. Whenever Sirius seemed to have run out of things to write about he started transcribing his fleeting thoughts and ideas, leading to long rolls of _pure Sirius_ , pure unaltered feeling.

_Do you think my brother knows he’s making a mistake?_

_Does Andromeda regret it? Running away? Marrying him? Having a child?_

_If my mother blasted my name off the tapestry, do you think she'd be sad about it later?_

_Do you think there’s an afterlife?_

Remus wrote back as best as he could, but he'd never been as verbose as Sirius, not even in print, and ultimately he always felt he’d let him down. There was Sirius, writing Remus such long, thoughtful letters, only to receive small, weak things in return.

Remus made sure to end each letter with “ _Missing you dreadfully. Yours, Remus.”_ since that was the best he could offer him.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Sirius chewed absentmindedly at a piece of toast as he flipped through the _Prophet_ , eyes flickering across the pages, flying from photograph to photograph. The _Prophet_ had been a mess lately – half fearful nonsense, half outright denial. One day it claimed a war was coming and then the next it claimed all was well. Remus supposed the entire wizarding world was caught in the same push and pull dilemma, uncertain about just what was coming next. People were scared.

“Listen to this,” Sirius said suddenly, jostling Remus as he bumped their sides together. Remus dropped a spoonful of porridge down the front of his robes and pouted. “ _‘The Shrieking Shack, located in the all-wizarding village of Hogsmeade (known for its close proximity to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and for the Goblin rebellion of 1612), has been declared the most haunted building in all Britain, with results coming from a survey conducted in recent weeks. The Shrieking Shack has become a hot-bed for malicious and rowdy paranormal activity of late, though the exact likes of which cannot be ascertained due to all researchers assigned to the case being traumatised to the point of admission to the St Mungo’s psychiatric department. Whilst the Shrieking Shack has always been known for its unnerving reputation, it’s only within the past few years that nearby residents have reported that the Shack has started living up to its name, with screams and howls of pain and devastation coming from the dilapidated building late in the night.’_ ” He laughed, dropping the paper to meet Remus’s eyes. “How’s that, huh?”

Remus felt quite sick.

“I think it’s pretty messed up, to be truthful,” James admitted, and Remus felt a flood of relief flow through him. “The sounds – the, uh – what did you say?”

Sirius raised the paper again. “The… uh… Oh – _The screams and howls of pain and devastation?"_

“Yeah – that. I think that’s a bit sad. Y’know. Because of – uh – what it is.” He glanced at Remus who was now focusing solely on his porridge, which was already going cold.

“I agree,” said Peter, a frown evident in the tone of his voice, “it’s no ghost they’re hearing, is it? It’s just poor Remus.”

He glanced around him, covertly checking to see if they were in the right kind of place to be discussing something that was such an important secret. They were already early to breakfast so the table was mostly empty, but he still couldn’t help but feel as though anyone could be listening.

“Who cares,” he said after a long while, turning away from the concern and hurt that swirled in waves in the pit of his stomach, “it’s just a dumb article, isn’t it? Probably written just to calm people down – take their mind off of things. A haunted building is easier to worry about than a raving lunatic madman who’s somehow managed to find followers.” His face felt hot.

Sirius nodded. “You’re dead right, Remus, dead right.” He went back to the _Prophet_ and resumed reading, but it was no more than a minute later that he nudged Remus (painfully) in the ribs and said, “Hey, speak of the damn devil. It says here that there have been a number of mysterious disappearances lately.” He frowned as he read. “A couple from London – and an entire family from Bristol.” His head swayed as he shook it, slow and sad, his eyes dark. “They think it’s Voldemort related.”

“You know,” Peter said as he dragged his spoon through his porridge, looking thoughtful, “I’ve heard that he’s made it so that his name’s a curse. I've heard that once you say it you’ve cursed yourself for life. You say it, and you’re doomed.”

“People have started going about calling him He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named,” Sirius grumbled.

James nodded. “Yeah, and bloody You-Know-Who. It’s a load of rubbish, if you ask me. A heap of bullshit. Curses don't work that way, Peter.”

Remus was in full agreement. “No one can curse a name like that,” he said, “not even him. It’s just a way of making him seem more powerful than he really is.” He looked to Peter, hoping he was gaining some kind of comfort from this, but he only looked conflicted. “It’s all just a tactic to make people afraid.”

“Well it works,” Peter said, “he’s dead scary, ain’t he?”

James clapped a hand on Peter’s shoulder, jolting him a little and making his eyes bulge. “Nothin’ to worry about here, Petey,” he assured him. “Dumbledore’s not about to let some loon into the castle to harass people. That’d look shocking in the papers, and imagine all the Howlers from parents.”

They left for Herbology after that, heading out of the castle and across the grounds towards the greenhouses. They’d barely stepped outside before they saw a small group to the side of the main path, and amongst them was Severus Snape. James and Sirius seemed to still at the sight of him, their nostrils flaring and fists clenched.

“What’s Snivellus doing?” James wondered. “Since when has he had any friends that aren’t Evans?”

There were four of them, though Remus only knew three. There was Severus, greasy-haired and bent with poor posture, looking shiftily every way around him, much like Peter often did when he was positioned as guard for one of James’s pranks. Then there were two other Slytherin boys – Mulciber and Avery – who were in their year as well and, from what Remus had seen in their shared classes, were cruel and brutish. The fourth boy was smaller and was in sunny Hufflepuff robes. There was no mistaking the look of fear on his face.

James came to the same conclusion as Remus did. “Fucking hell,” he breathed, reaching for his wand as he quickened his pace towards the group, "bullying a little Hufflepuff? That's just low."

“Merlin, James, we’re going to be late,” Sirius groaned, nevertheless following dutifully after him with Peter and Remus in tow.

Avery, who was taller than the others and had a broad, flat nose, was towering over the wilting Hufflepuff boy. “Heard your blood’s got sludge in it,” he said with a sneering grin. “Heard your parents are animals – pigs, by the look of you. Fat, dumb, Muggle pigs.”

“I don’t know what kind of rubbish they tell you idiots in Hufflepuff, pig,” Mulciber added from Avery’s side, “but Mudbloods aren’t welcome here at Hogwarts. And besides, pigs don’t go to school, do they? Pigs get eaten.” He chomped his teeth, the sound loud in the suddenly silent courtyard, and Avery and Severus both snorted with cold laughter. The Hufflepuff looked frantic and pale-faced, his eyes wide as saucers and his entire body quivering in fear.

Avery took out his wand and rolled it in his fingers, twirled it like a baton. He pointed it at the Hufflepuff, grinning all the while, and that was when James Stunned him cold.

“Fuck off,” James snarled, storming over in great, long strides. He stepped over Avery’s immobile body and jabbed his wand at Mulciber and Severus, a menacing look across his face. “He’s a fucking _kid_ , you utter _assholes_.”

Mulciber didn't seem bothered by Avery's unconscious form on the ground. Instead he rolled his eyes and sighed with exasperation. “Oh, fuck off, Potter,” Mulciber drawled, “you’re a Pureblood, for fuck's sake, you’re--”

“We’re going to be late for Herbology,” Severus interrupted.

Sirius snorted, drawing their eyes to him. “Slippery Snivellus, always trying to weasel your way out of things,” he said through gritted teeth, his wand in hand. He flanked James, the two of them broad-shouldered and tall and more than adequately equipped to fight both Severus and Mulciber.

“He’s right, though,” Remus said as he looked from his friends to the Slytherins, envisioning month long detentions and black eyes, but no one but Severus seemed eager to stop the altercation. He sighed and looked to the Hufflepuff boy. “You might as well get going. Would you like me to go with you--” The boy didn't wait for him to finish his offer before running off.

“You’re pathetic,” Mulciber continued, “the both of you.” His eyes darted from James to Sirius and back again. “Your brother wouldn’t be acting like this,” he told Sirius.

“Yeah, because my brother’s a prat,” he returned, and then he Stunned him cold. Mulciber hit the ground with a heavy _THUD,_ landing over Avery’s legs and colliding with the firm ground.

Severus let out a high sound and staggered slightly backwards, already anticipating the same treatment as his friends.

James merely glared at him. “Fuck off, Snivellus,” he said, and Severus wasted no time in hurrying down the courtyard in the direction of the greenhouses. Remus was about to compliment James on his maturity, for just letting Severus walk away, but then there was a whisper and a flick of a wand, and James sent Severus tripping, his things spilling across the ground to echoes of laughter from the surrounding students.

Well. It was an improvement, at least. 

 

 

* * *

 

 

The year seemed to pass quickly, far faster than those years before it. Remus lost track of time and only realised it with each new moon. He lost himself amongst study and research, with each night spent studying for the essays and assignments he got in class as well as research for their Animagus plan. End of year exams were growing closer, too.

“You know,” he said one night after a particularly exhausting day, “at this rate I think it’d be a lot easier if you all just… permanently became animals. I’m sure with time you’d come to enjoy life in your new forms.”

“You worry too much,” James told him, “ _and_ you study too much. Let us do some of the work, won’t you?”

Remus sighed and gritted his teeth. He’d tried time and time again to get James and Peter involved in the research, but they were so easily distracted that it was more effort than it was worth. And try though he might, Remus could never quite relinquish control of something that was just so terrifyingly dangerous for them all. He had to perfect it for them.

“If you want to help,” Sirius said, grabbing one of Remus’s books from the stack he’d been compiling beside him in his seat by the common room fire, “then here, help.” He tossed it to James. “Get cracking – I expect two feet of parchment on my desk in the morning on the dangers of Animagi magic.”

Remus smiled fondly and lowered his eyes back to his work. He took in the figures and the diagrams and the heavily bolded words that stood out starkly against the yellowing parchment.

_ILLEGAL ACTIVITY_

_PERMANENT DISFIGURATION  
_

_DEATH_

He blinked, feeling the ache of exhaustion seeping into his every inch, into the marrows of his bones, and he took a sip of his tea. It was cold. Of course. It had been sitting out for an hour, after all–-

“Here,” Sirius murmured, reaching out and warming it with a tap of his wand against the thin teacup. “Better?”

He took a hesitant sip, then beamed. “Loads.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

He’d written out a list of things to read and memorise and he’d given a copy to all three of them. They were getting closer and closer to being able to perform the spell, and Remus had hopes that within a year or so they might be able to attempt it. First he had to be sure that all three of them were fully aware of the magic they were studying and the dangerous complications that could arise. He had to be sure that it would go off without a hitch.

“Make sure you read it, alright?” he pleaded as they sat in their carriage on the Hogwarts Express, headed back home for the summer. “Memorise the stuff I’ve underlined, and please, Peter, for the love of god, don’t leave it until the last day of break, alright?”

Peter nodded dutifully and slipped the parchment into his bag, no doubt where it would stay until the last day of break. Remus ground his teeth together and felt his pulse skip.

A hand touched his wrist. “Hey,” Sirius said, fingers gentle against his skin, “don’t panic, Remus. It’s going to be okay.” He smiled at him, just at Remus, and his heart proceeded to clench and thunder at his ribs.

_Fucking hell_.

“I’ll write you,” Sirius promised him, as though Remus had ever doubted he would. “You’ll be sick of me by the end of the summer. Every time you see my owl on the horizon you’ll shut the window.”

“I’ve been doing that for a long time already, Black,” he joked, and Sirius laughed and poked him in the ribs with quick, clever fingers that left Remus breathless and laughing and devastatingly enamoured.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this is taking ten years to finish oops

The latest of Sirius’s many letters arrived just before midnight; the impatient pecking of his owl against Remus’s bedroom window roused him from the beginning of sleep. He’d been receiving a letter a day for the majority of the holiday and sometimes, if Sirius was feeling particularly bored that day, Remus received two.

The thing was: Sirius’s parents, in all their genius, had decided to arrange a marriage for him.

“Surely that has to be illegal,” Peter had said when they met midway through the break at Diagon Alley. “Surely that’s child abuse.”

“Peter, my precious pumpkin, my parents hold the law in as much regard as they do Muggle rights,” Sirius had sighed in return. “Arranged marriages are quite common in old pureblooded families, and besides… they don’t intend to marry me off until I’m of age, and by that time I’ll be long gone and living in Jamacia.” He’d shrugged then, the very picture of nonchalance, but Remus had recognised the tightness in the corners of his mouth and the purposeful, hard way he held his shoulders.

Sirius’s correspondence became a play-by-play of the dinners his parents threw each evening in their useless attempt at matchmaking. A parade of successful pureblooded families made their way through the Black house, stopping for dinner and to exchange flinty promises and compliments that were as fake as their smiles. Sirius was keeping a tally, and so far he’d been introduced to forty-eight girls that his parents wanted him to marry.

 _Honestly, Remus,_ he’d written one evening in sharply jagged handwriting that spoke volumes of his temperament, _if I have to listen to another Slytherin bint tell me she thinks that raving idiot madman has ‘the right idea’, I think I’m going to stun myself right there at the dinner table._

Sirius’s owl pecked at the window yet again, this time hard enough to threaten the thin glass. Remus sighed, knowing that if anyone’s bird would break through a window to deliver a letter, it would definitely be Sirius’s, and he climbed from bed to let the creature in. The bird dropped the letter immediately, and then without even coming inside to rest, it turned and disappeared back into the night. He supposed the owl was bored of Remus’s house by this point.

The letter was thinner than usual, which was almost a relief since Remus wasn’t sure he had the energy to stay awake reading one of Sirius’s essays on the idiocy of his family, and it fell easily from the envelope and into his palm.

_Evening, Remus!_

_We had another of the stupid dinners tonight, this time with a bunch of soggy Durmstrang idiots and their brash daughters. How my parents know these people I have no idea, but who cares, really, because I definitely don’t. Anyway, one of the girls was alright. She didn’t spout the same tripe as all the others do, and a couple of times I caught her rolling her eyes when her sisters were talking. We ended up snogging in the house elf’s pantry while our parents drank Firewhiskey in the lounge and the other girls were fighting over who got to play the piano for little Reggy._

_I don’t want to kiss and tell, but Merlin’s pants does she know how to use her tongue. I think I’ve matured, Remus. Verianka has shown me all the possibilities in the world._

_Hope this finds you well. Give your parents my undying love and adoration._

_Regards,_

_Sirius_

_PS. Only two weeks until we’re back at school!_

_PPS. She let me put my hand up her shirt._

Remus swallowed around rising dismay and hastily stuffed the letter back in the envelope. For a long time it was all he could but stare at his name in Sirius’s handwriting. After a sore moment, it sank in.

Sirius had given him nothing about the girl except her name, but Remus could picture their kiss with vivid colours and lively sound. Sirius and the girl, their arms tight around each other, their hands lost under clothes and over skin and in hair, and their lips pressed hot and firm together. He could hear them; Sirius’s breath, his gasps, the way his voice caught in his throat and came out high and raspy.

He tossed the envelope to his desk, decided he’d reply in the morning, and trudged back to bed. There was a knot in the pit of his stomach that had been growing there for a year or more, steadily becoming more and more tangled and ensnaring his organs in its net. It tugged at his insides, warped them, warped _him_ , and left him off-kilter and bereaved. It was a living thing, this knot. It was a living, breathing creature.

 _This is jealousy_ , he realised, and it was a surprise to him.

The realisation did nothing to lessen the pain.

 

* * *

 

James Floo’d him the next day, his head suddenly appearing in the hearth as Remus was procrastinating his reply to Sirius.

“Good arvo,” he said pleasantly, “you get a letter from Sirius?”

“I suppose we’ll be in the wedding party,” Remus answered. “Wonder how long it’ll be before you’re godfather to his firstborn.”

James snickered. “I don’t think that’s gonna happen any time soon. He’s too busy trying to tick off his parents.”

“And snogging a potential wife they handpicked for him is the way to do it?” he shot back, eyebrows raised.

James gave him a strange look. Remus was aware that he was behaving oddly – he knew it objectively, but it was one thing to know something and another thing entirely to prevent it. He clenched and unclenched his hands in his pockets where James couldn’t see.

“She’s gone back to Durmstrang, you realise?” James said, and there was something in his tone that Remus refused to look too closely at. “It’s not like that kiss sealed their fates together or anything. It was just a snog in a closet.”

“Pantry,” he corrected.

“Yeah, well, whatever.” There was silence then, just the crackling of the fire. “You okay?” he pressed. “You’re acting a little—”

Remus shook his head brusquely and looked over his shoulder at the neglected reply on the table. “I’m fine,” he lied, “I’m just – sorry, you’ve just caught me in the middle of something, that’s all.”

James was immediately apologetic. “Should’ve given you some warning,” he realised, “sorry, mate, just wanted to check you were aware of the gossip.”

“What are you, a middle aged mother of three? _Gossip?_ ”

“It’s juicy,” he said, grinning, and Remus snorted at him just before his face disappeared from the flames and he was left alone, the silence ringing in his ears.

_She’s gone back to Durmstrang, you realise?_

He wrote Sirius a reply that was both congratulatory and friendly. He sent it off with his owl and headed to the kitchen for lunch.

 

* * *

 

_Remus,_

_I’ll see you tomorrow! I can’t believe it’s finally time. This summer went for a lifetime._

_Regards,_

_Sirius_

* * *

 

Sirius stood out like a sore thumb on Platform 9¾, dressed in Muggle clothes amongst a sea of more traditionally dressed wizards and witches. He was in a dark leather jacket and tight jeans, the kind of outfit that looked more at home on the front page of a Muggle music magazine, and quite out of place in the wizarding world.

Well, the clothes would have looked out of place on anyone other than Sirius – on Sirius the outfit looked as though it had been tailored specifically for him. His skin was paler than it had been the last time Remus saw him, and yet it was still smooth and clear and luminescent; it stood in stark contrast with the inky leather of his jacket. He’d grown taller, at least several inches, and his legs seemed longer by a mile. His jeans were just tight enough that Remus couldn’t look at them without blushing.

He managed to find his voice. “Honestly,” he said with a deliberate long-suffering sigh, “only you.”

Sirius gave him his brightest grin – all his straight, perfect teeth glinting along with his grey diamond eyes – and reached out, hands splayed wide, and caught Remus and reeled him in. Remus’s face met Sirius’s shoulder and throat, and belatedly, awkwardly, he realised he was being hugged. He returned it all too eagerly, his hands on Sirius’s back and waist.

“Ready for fourth year?” His voice was hot gainst Remus’s hair, and then they were separated again.

Remus swallowed. He was overheating. “Anything to get out of the house,” he said, voice thick. “I’m sick of playing solitaire and reading text books.”

James appeared from the crowd seconds later, his parents lagging just behind him. He beamed at them both with a smile as bright as Sirius’s, and then there were more hugs and greetings as Mr and Mrs Potter settled amongst them. Peter arrived just as Mrs Potter was straightening Sirius’s shirt with limited success, and for a moment there was nothing in Remus’s heart but pure happiness.

 

* * *

 

They were some of the last to board the train, and as such it was a hard task finding any unoccupied carriages. Most were already full to the brim with the doors threatening to burst, while many others were full of whispering Slytherins, none of whom looked too pleased at the prospect of sharing a close space with a group of Gryffindors.

They walked the length of the train slowly, peering into carriages desperately as they passed. Remus grew increasingly concerned that they’d be forced to spend the trip sitting out in the hall, ducking out of the way whenever the trolley witch passed by.

James had just suggested they convince Frank Longbottom and his friends to let them sit in their carriage when they found Lily Evans and Marlene McKinnon in a carriage by themselves. His plan evaporated at the sight of them.

“Perfect,” James said, dusting his hands together and tugging the door to their carriage open with gusto. “Ladies,” he said smoothly, beaming at them and receiving only shocked stares in turn, “are these seats taken?”

“Occupied!” Lily cried, looking as though she wanted to leap from her seat and force the door shut. “Keep walking, Potter.”

“ _Evans_ ,” James whined, dragging her name out until it was just a slur of sound, “everywhere else is already full.”

Lily looked at him with flat disbelief while pent up rage sizzled behind her bright eyes. Remus sighed, sensing a hopeless case with James in the lead, and shouldered his way past him and through the door to meet her.

“Hey, Lily,” he said bashfully, very uncomfortable with the situation he had found himself in, “he’s not actually full of it this time.” James huffed indignantly from behind him and was gracefully ignored by the group. “The carriages are all taken… it’s either here or with Frank Longbottom and his mates, and I don’t reckon they’d be too thrilled with the idea of sharing with a bunch of fourth years.”

“And you know what they’re like,” Sirius interjected, shoving his way forward so he could give his piece, “all they talk about is defensive spells and bloody _chess_.”

“Nerds,” Peter supplied with a sad shake of his head.

Lily scowled at them, but this time it lacked heat.

Marlene looked from Remus and his friends and back to Lily. “It’s not like we can’t fit them,” she murmured, glancing at them.

“Oh, I know we can fit them,” Lily agreed with no attempt at lowering her voice, “but I also know that an entire trip with Potter will kill me.”

“Evans, he’ll be on his best behaviour,” Sirius promised, “I’ll flog him if he’s not.”

“Fine,” she said after a long moment of deliberation, “I surrender. Come in before I change my mind.”

Remus found himself sandwiched between Peter and James while Sirius looked quite at ease beside Marlene. Lily’s arms were tight across her chest and her lips were pursed. When she caught Remus watching her she offered him an apologetic grimace which he gave back in turn.

“So,” James said, carding his fingers through his hair so it stuck up in wild, unruly tufts, “how was everyone’s summer?”

Lily looked surreptitiously at Marlene whose face had become pinched and pale. James had clearly asked the wrong question.

“Could have been better, if I’m honest,” Marlene said tersely. She appeared to curl in on herself, her shoulders rounding and her head ducking. Her dark, tightly curled hair threatened to shield her face from view. “I spent it half out of my wits with fear. You-Know-Who, yeah? It’s horrifying.”

James huffed obnoxiously, stretching his legs out and crossing his ankles. Remus felt a twang of embarrassment for his friend. “It’s nothing to worry about,” he said, “it’s just a story the _Prophet_ cooked up to boost their sales. Give it time and it’ll blow over, I guarantee it.”

“Well, that’s just it,” Lily interrupted frostily, “the _Prophet’s_ been doing the complete opposite – they’ve been keeping things quiet, if anything.” She glanced at her friend. “Marlene? Can I tell them?”

Marlene shook her head and wet her lips. She was a pretty girl, Remus noticed, with dark, clear skin and soft eyes. “I’ll tell them,” she said. “My dad’s with the Aurors,” she told them. “He works from the Ministry and doesn’t leave his desk… which is lucky, really, since his colleagues – the ones who are out in the field, mind you – have been… going missing of late.”

Lily took her hand and squeezed it and Marlene sucked in a shaky, wet breath.

“One day they’re at work and the next they’re gone. No note, no body, nothing missing from their house – just… Gone.”

James shifted uncomfortably beside Remus as he withdrew his outstretched legs and caught his lip between his teeth. His bravado had lessened and he seemed almost subdued now. “So they’re off joining Voldemort, then?”

“No,” she said, “dad thinks they’re being asked to join – being _recruited_ more like – but these men… they’re saying no. Or. Well. They’re the kind to have said no – Muggle-borns and half-bloods and typical Gryffindors – you know the type. I mean, they’re _Aurors._ ”

James ran a hand over his mouth. “They’re saying no and turning down this man, this – this Voldemort – and then they disappear?”

“If Voldemort can’t have them, no one can,” Sirius surmised.

“And the _Prophet_ hasn’t been saying a word about it,” Lily huffed, looking venomously out the window at the countryside and the entire world. “They’re trying to pretend it’s not even happening. Like these people aren’t gone, like this _lunatic_ isn’t out there killing people…”

“They’re probably trying to keep people calm,” Remus suggested weakly.

“Yes, but that’s not helping us, is it?” Lily replied, her voice sharp and clear with passion. “We don’t need to be calm – we need to be worried about this; we need to _know_ about this. People are going missing, they’re disappearing from their homes, and no one’s being told.”

“Your dad, though,” James interjected, looking to Marlene and for once in his life not obsessing over what Lily had said and focusing on someone else instead, “is he doing anything? Is something being done amongst the Aurors, at least?”

Marlene shook her head limply. “He says there’s no real proof of foul play so no one can do anything about it. There’s always the possibly that they _have_ joined him, you know. Or they might have fled. There are so many possibilities, but no one wants to point to the obvious. No one wants to be the person that says You-Know-Who's been murdering people – good, brave, _strong_ people; the kind of people who could have defended themselves against that sort of thing.”

Her lip wavered. “And dad – his friends are all missing – and his _boss_ – there aren’t many field agents left now, you see, and dad’s at his desk, but he could be – they could move him – or – You-Know-Who might know that he used to be on the field – there’s always the chance that it might be dad next.” Her jaw shook and Sirius lifted his arm and wove it around her shoulders, pulling her smoothly into his side.

She eased into his arm like melting butter and let out a shaky breath. Her face disappeared against his chest and her shoulders gently shook with silent sobs. Sirius smoothed his hand over her head and through her hair.

Remus’s stomach was tight with knots, both from Marlene’s story and from the way Sirius was whispering quietly to her, holding her, comforting her so gently.

“It’s scary,” Peter said quietly, startling Remus; he hadn’t spoken once. He was watching the countryside outside the window with a faraway look upon his solemn face. “If he can kill an Auror, what do we stand a chance against him?” He shook his head.

No one answered.

 

* * *

 

“We need Mandrake leaves,” Remus said that night in their dormitory, his luggage swiftly unpacking itself and finding new homes in his dresser.

James flapped a hand dismissively from where he lazed upon his bed. “We can buy them at Hogsmeade.”

“ _Fresh_ Mandrake leaves,” Remus corrected himself. “As in: fresh from the Mandrake itself.”

Sirius looked delighted. “Remus, are you suggesting what I think you’re suggesting?”

James had perked up. “It sounds like he is, Sirius.”

He snorted and scratched at his scalp, watching a sweater flying from his trunk to his wardrobe. “It’s not as though I like the idea, but if you’re serious about going through with this then we need to follow the ritual as closely as we can, and store-bought leaves just won’t cut it. So unless one of you have been keeping a Mandrake under your bed—”

“He is!” James shrilled. “He’s suggesting _theft!_ ”

“Breaking and entering, too, by the sound of it,” Sirius concurred. “You know they keep the greenhouses locked outside of lessons.”

He buried his face in his hands. “You’re bad influences on me, honestly.”

“Typical Remus,” Peter teased, “you finally decide to break the rules and it’s to steal _leaves_.”

“Baby steps,” Sirius encouraged. “First he’s stealing leaves, and before you know it he’s stealing the Hogwarts Express and heading full steam ahead to freedom.”

“I’m serious,” Remus pressed on, “I’ve been translating texts over the break and it looks as though you’re going to have to – you gits, listen to me – you have to keep a Mandrake leaf in your mouth for an entire month.”

The laughter dwindled until silence fell and James said, “What.”

“It’s a part of the process. You suck on a leaf for a month, then you spit it out and burn it under the full moon, and then we use the ashes in the potion that you proceed to drink. Before you know it you’re a slug or a chimp or a – whatever.”

Peter looked nervous. “Uh,” he said, “full moon?”

Remus hadn’t meant to share that quite so soon. He was hoping he could get away with not telling them until the time came, but the kneazle was officially out of the bag.

“You won’t be there?” James’s voice was small.

He felt his chest tighten. “It’s not going to be too difficult,” he reassured them, “but it’s all the more reason for you to listen to me and read the stuff I give you, since I won’t be there to help you through it.”

“Hey,” Sirius announced, “I’ve been doing my homework this break and I reckon I’ve made a few leaps and bounds with it.”

“Good,” he said, “you take any notes?”

Sirius snorted around a cocky grin. “Remus, my old friend, I even colour coordinated them for you – that’s how much time I’ve had on my hands this summer. I made notes _for_ my notes.”

“Can you make us copies?” Peter asked hopefully.

Remus stared at Peter and James with dismay. “Honestly,” he said, “I’m beginning to worry that Sirius is the only one of you who will actually survive the process. You two are going to end up as caterpillars, or _worse_.”

James laughed. “That’s a risk I’m willing to take if it means I don’t have to study.”

 

* * *

 

The weekend arrived quicker than Remus could have imagined, and with it came a mountain of homework.

“I miss being a third year,” James whined as they sat around the fireplace in the common room, each working on their respective homework. “I don’t remember Charms being this hard last year.”

Remus was halfway through his ten inch essay for Arithmancy and would have rathered be working on the comparatively simpler Charms homework, but he didn’t say as much.

“It’s pretty nerve-wracking being a fourth year,” Peter confided. “It’s only a few more years until we’ve graduated and I don’t even have a career plan yet.”

Sirius placed a comforting hand on his shoulder and confessed, “Me neither, Pete. Though I reckon it’d be top notch to work as a curse breaker.”

James was quick to agree, “I hear you get paid by the cauldron-full.”

It was a fun game they played, tossing ludicrous careers at each other as though they were going to be their realities, when they all knew, somewhere deep down, that things weren’t going to be like that. Not in this world.

Remus wet his lips and pushed the thought out of mind. There wasn’t enough room in his head to worry about the future. He had Arithmancy to worry about, first of all.

They were quiet after that; the fire crackled calmly in the background, and their quills scratched and twitched across smooth parchment. It was nearly eleven and the common room was entirely empty, save for the four of them. Once or twice Peter looked to be almost falling asleep.

Sirius yawned with comic exaggeration, his arms stretching tall above him, and then he flopped raggedly down along the sofa, his head falling into Remus’s lap. Remus’s Arithmancy text book was suddenly hidden behind a broad smile and a tangle of wild black hair.

“Kill me, Remus,” he said.

“No,” he answered. “Get out of the way of my textbook, will you?”

“I don’t want to write about Charms,” he whined, eyes falling closed. His eyelashes were absurdly long – far longer than Remus’s were.

“I can’t believe I was counting down the days until school started,” Sirius continued, eyes still closed to the world and his essay. “Did I go delirious from isolation? How did I forget homework?”

Remus’s fingers itched to reach out and _touch_. It wouldn’t be strange for him to do it, either; Sirius was the one who had stretched out and laid his head in Remus’s lap, so who would blame Remus if he put a hand on his head? If he wove his fingers through the fine strands of his hair? If he traced the steady slope of his cheekbone, the curve of his lip?

Sirius took a breath. “Here lies Sirius Black,” he intoned, “who was tragically killed by homework induced boredom. Maybe he rest in peace.”

“Rest in peace,” James concurred.

“Amen.”

 

* * *

 

The day of the Gryffindor Quidditch tryouts was unseasonably hot. The sun was bright and insistent, a clear warmth across the grounds and Remus's skin. He and Sirius were high in the stands, Sirius lying along one bench with his eyes shut against the sky as he dozed quietly in the sunshine. Remus sat cross-legged, a book propped open on his knees, and he ran a fingertip over the words as he read. Peter was trying out for beater, though no one really expected he'd get through; he was stocky and well built for the position but he lacked skill on a broom and was awful at strategy.

Also, because Remus was plagued by chronic poor luck, it happened to be the morning of the first full moon of the term.

“You look like shit,” Sirius told him. “I mean – no offense, Remus, because you know I cherish you and I value our friendship more than words can ever convey, but you – you look like shit.”

“Thank you, Sirius,” he grumbled, “you’re a wonderful friend.”

“You don’t have to be here you know,” he told Remus. “James won’t even notice.”

Remus was aware of that (James rarely noticed anything when he was absorbed by Quidditch) and yet he’d volunteered to come and watch the tryouts regardless. It had been a poor choice.

“I know,” he agreed, “but it doesn’t matter where I am, I’m still going to be feeling like death.” He dug his fingers into the flesh of his upper arm and pressed until he felt the firm bone beneath the muscle.

“You’re a masochist,” Sirius decided. “You’re a madman.”

There was a whistle from the pitch and Remus glanced sideways in time to see a dozen players rise into the air in unison, just a few stragglers coming up behind. He couldn’t see Peter amongst them.

“You know,” Sirius said in a sun warmed voice, “I haven’t asked how your summer was yet.”

“I told you most of it in my letters,” Remus replied. “I walked the village a lot, just for something to do. I helped dad replace the carpet in the lounge. I read a few books for school… a few for Animagus study.” He shrugged, though Sirius’s eyes were still closed and he had no way of seeing it. “I did nothing. I missed this place, though.” He rubbed a hand across his mouth and tried to scrub away the ‘ _I missed you’_ that had almost slipped past his tightly guarded lips.

Another whistle came from the pitch and Remus watched a second group of players take to the sky. He thought he might recognise Peter as one of them, but from such a distance it was hard to tell.

“What about you?” he asked eventually. “Your summer? What did you do when you weren’t being showcased to potential wives?”

Sirius snorted. He rolled his shoulders a little against the hard bench and his hair fell softly over his forehead, shining in the sun. Remus allowed himself to watch, to memorise the soft set of his mouth and the pale, barely-there veins in his eyelids.

“I spent a lot of time outdoors,” he said eventually, “I didn’t really want to be in the house.”

He knew there was something deeper there, but not knowing if it was his place to pry, he ignored it. “It was nice weather all summer,” he said instead.

Sirius cracked a pale grey eye open and fixed it on Remus. “My cousin Narcissa is dating Lucius Malfoy – you remember him? He was in Andromeda’s year, back when we started. Seventh year, I think. Anyway, they’ve been together for a few months and everyone thinks they’re going to get married and have a baby, and they probably will, knowing Narcissa and her mother. Knowing Lucius, too. But – well, he’s a Malfoy, and the Malfoy’s are very – they’re more fanatical than even my family. They’re big supporters of purity and Voldemort and – all that utter trash.” He shook his head disgustedly. “Malfoy keeps coming to the weekly family dinner that we host and so we’re all treated to these long, winded speeches about our _duty_ and our _privilege_ and our _responsibility._ ” He scoffed, showing how little merit he gave to such ideas.

“Sounds like a load of shit,” Remus told him.

“Worst still, my parents – Regulus too – they all buy into it. My dad especially, I think. He keeps inviting the pale little asshole over, after all, and then sending Regulus these looks across the table – these looks of encouragement, like – it’s as though he’s telling him to listen closely, to take notes.” He sighed and the sound was painful, like a cry of grief. “It’s only a matter of time before everything comes crashing down around them,” he went on. “Regulus’ll make some unfixable mistake, mum and dad will cry, and my little brother will spend his life behind bars in Azkaban.”

“Your brother isn’t stupid,” he tried, “I’m sure he’ll see sense before he does anything permanent.”

Sirius shook his head. “He hasn’t got the room to think for himself, Remus,” he said, “not when they’re breathing down his neck like they are; newspaper clippings on the table at breakfast, owls from the Malfoy Manor coming and going at all hours…” He forced himself upright and squinted out against the day. “You’ve seen who he’s friends with. You know what’s going to happen better than he does.”

Remus felt a throb of pity in his chest. “You could try to stop it? Try to talk to him – convince him not to--?”

“I’ve _tried_ , but it’s like talking to a damned brick wall. My parents see me as the traitor and Reg as their saving grace. If I won’t be the future of the Black line then Regulus must, and he’ll do it, too. He’ll be what they want him to be just to appease them. I mean, Merlin, he’s seen how they reacted to me acting out the way I have.”

The tryouts continued before them, whistles sounding and voices shouting instructions through the open air. Remus watched them as Sirius picked at his thumbnail.

“I’ve been thinking about running away from home,” he admitted after a moment, making Remus look back at him. “I figure it’ll only get worse if I stay.”

“You’d really leave?” He pictured Sirius wandering the streets and sleeping on park benches, twigs in his perfect hair and dirt in smears against his pale skin. “What would you do?”

He tucked his hair behind his ear and shrugged delicately. “Go to the Potters’,” he said, like it was simple, like it was obvious – and it was. “Mr Potter already made the offer last year. He seems to get it. He understands that it’s not a matter of _if_ but more a matter of _when_.”

“Your mother, though,” Remus tried, “won’t she be upset?”

Sirius smirked coolly. “Oh, she’ll be upset, alright,” he agreed, “not because she’s lost a son, but because I’ve shamed them and leaving is the final straw. Trust me, Remus, she’d relish the opportunity to burn my face off the family tree.” He looked out at the pitch, his eyes trailing after a player who flew past them. “To be honest with you,” he continued quietly, “I’m shocked she didn’t do it the moment I wrote home the night of our Sorting. I’m shocked they let me come home again.”

Remus thought of his own family with a strange new fondness – his nervous, panicky mother and her constant fretting; his quiet, intimidating father and his arms-length way of loving Remus. They had their issues, as he was sure all parents did, but he couldn’t imagine either of them disowning him, let alone over something as trivial as which house he was sorted into. He had never loved them more.

He wasn’t sure if it was the right thing to say, but he risked it anyway. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m sorry your parents are like that.”

Sirius wasn’t offended. “Don’t be,” he said. “I’m just sorry for Regulus. Maybe if things were different he could escape them, too.”

Another whistle sounded from the Quidditch pitch and they watched as all the players lowered themselves to the ground.

A cloud rolled across the sun and Remus shivered in the shadow.

 

* * *

 

That night he went under the Whomping Willow an hour earlier than he usually did, encouraged by the ache of his body and the restless noise of his thoughts. When he reached the Shack he eagerly tossed himself down upon the bed without a second thought. He stared up at the ceiling – there were scratches and slashes even there – and tried to find the calm within the storm.

Remus’s head throbbed in time with the uneven, reedy beat of his heart. He could feel an itch beneath his skin as though there were a million insects marching through his veins, headed to war. _The moon, the moon, the moon, the moon,_ his pulse whispered. _It’s here, it’s here, it’s here, it’s here._

It was always so hard to hide from himself when the moon was full. He was never more aware of his thoughts and his desires as he was in the hours leading up to midnight – never so aware of his muscles, his nerves, his lungs, his eyes, and every piece that made him who he was. His thoughts were lightning hot, charging through him like fire. He couldn’t ignore the pain but he could think through it.

His ribs ached as though the marrow in his bones was threatening to boil over. He slid a hand under his shirt and pressed it against his skin, needling his fingers over the ridges of his chest, pressing firmly where it hurt the most. He buckled a little with a wave of agony, shuddering into himself, his nails cutting sharply into his skin, and then it passed. He breathed easier. _One breath, two breath, continue._

There was a chance that he was gay. It was time he admitted it. He fancied Sirius.

It was easy to think about it when he was in the dark in the Shrieking Shack with no one around for miles and only his pain for company.

Like this, numb with pain, he could think of Sirius in a new light:

He thought of his body – lean and toned, all pale skin and faint, barely distinguishable freckles dusted over his shoulders. He thought of his smile – the way his lips quirked a little higher on the right than they did on the left. He thought of his eyes – pale and cold, like sunlight filtered through rain. He thought of his hands – his fingers burning like hot irons against Remus’s skin, branding him and marking him, etching his name into his flesh. _Sirius, Sirius, Sirius_.

It was inconvenient, really. At the bare root of it all, when you got down to thinking about it logically, it was an inconvenience. Not just for Remus, who was sick of burning embarrassed skin and painful erections at awkward moments, but for the group at large. If Remus messed things up somehow with his stupid feelings about his stupid friend, he’d ruin everything. It was already a miracle that his friends had been willing to overlook the fact that he was a fucking _werewolf_ , and he wasn’t about to tempt fate by giving them another reason to hate him.

The very, very last thing he wanted was to lose Sirius. It was better to have him as his friend than to not have him at all. Because yes, sure, okay, Remus liked Sirius, but the love he had for him as his best friend was even greater. He had stuck by Remus despite everything and if Remus’s stupid hormonal body couldn’t deal with that, couldn’t understand how important that was, then he’d just have to keep himself quiet.

He wasn’t going to ruin things.

He wasn’t dumb.

His body wracked violently with another shudder of pain, this time a quick flash of agony that ran up his spine and branched along his shoulders, etching down his arms and into his fingers. He bit his lips and clenched his fists through the shocks.

Remus was a werewolf and he’d dealt with far worse things than a dumb hormonal crush. He could get over Sirius.


End file.
